Doc Holliday and Alexis: The Missing Years
by Bluemousey
Summary: A sequel of the story "To Protect and Defend" After risking everything, life, sanity, and soul, Doc Holliday starts a new life. The chapters within are glimpses into the years after leaving Tombstone. Will the illustrious dentist find peace and happiness
1. Summary

**The following is rated for mature subject matter and strong language.**

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**Doc Holliday and Alexis: "The Missing Years"  
**_A sequel of the story "To Protect and Defend"._

The story continues… After risking everything, his life, his sanity and his soul, to overcome great odds and terrifying evil, Doc Holliday and his new lady love, Alexis, make some life altering changes. The chapters within are glimpses into the years after leaving Tombstone and settling into a new life. Will the illustrious dentist find peace and happiness living a normal life, or will he miss the nomadic freedom of a gambler's world?


	2. Three Years Later

**Three Years Later...**

**An unwelcomed visitor, an anniversary, a birthday and an announcement have the Holliday household in turmoil.  
**

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"The Anderson brat bit me again." John Henry Holliday sighed loudly, flopped down into his favorite chair and held out his wounded finger to display to his wife.

Alex glanced away from her knitting to observe her husband from under her lashes. The smile that was desperate to emerge was proving very hard to conceal. A small, lady like smirk finally came into view, but only after John had lowered his hand and looked away. "Did you bite him back like I suggested?"

He snorted with frustration. "No, but I was inches from sticking him with an extra large needle until my better judgment prevailed." He tilted back his head and rested his eyes. It had been a grueling day, started out badly and gradually grew worse. By the noon hour he was ready to close up the office and head for the nearest saloon.

It was his own stupidity that started his spiral slide into dental purgatory. He should have known better than to schedule Mrs. Snyder as his first appointment of the day. He knew from previous experiences that he was always distracted and somewhat torn after her appointment concluded. Her peculiar habit of emitting a high pitch nervous giggle throughout the procedure could drive the sanest man to the bottle, but combine that with her provocative manner of dress and it was next to impossible to ignore her oddities and concentrate on his work.

The woman easily possessed the largest breasts he had ever seen, and for some unknown reason she willing walked around town with half of them exposed. Every time a giggle reached a furious peak, her voluptuous chest would quiver, the flesh seeming to move of its own accord to the point where they threatened to shimmy free from the top of her dress. As he went about his work he stood on pins and needles waiting, and honestly hoping, for the one laugh that would set her boobs free. So far, after one extraction and three fillings, he had yet to be so lucky. By the end of each appointment he couldn't decide if he was relieved she stayed covered or disappointed.

He felt no guilt about these thoughts, having shared and laughed about them with Alex. His good-humored wife listened to his confession with a half concealed smile and then proceeded to turn his dirty thoughts into a erotic encounter by asking him some very detailed and personal questions regarding his sexual desire while working on Mrs. Snyder's teeth.

The purpose of her game quickly became apparent when she moved from her chair to sit on his lap. Even now he could still feel the pressure of her fingers while she unfastened the buttons on his pants and the warmth of her hand sliding under the waistband until she could grasp his aching erection as she posed one provocative question after another. It wasn't long before Mrs. Snyder was the furthest thing from his mind.

His wandering attention was brought back to the present when Alex rose from her chair to pour him a large whiskey. She slipped the drink into his hand while sliding gracefully onto his knee. "What else happened today?" She asked casually while watching him toss half the whiskey down his throat. The sight of his angled head and the quick flick of his wrist only increased her amusement. His drinking habit had greatly declined since settling in Kentucky, but her dear retired outlaw could still toss back a drink like a well-seasoned professional.

He swallowed loudly and smirked back at her. "Mrs. Snyder came in for her crown."

Alex's eyes lit with amusement laced with an underlining sexual heat. "Oh?" She remarked lightly while loosening his tie and collar. "And were you blessed with a vision during her treatment?"

He chuckled at her well-chosen words. "Unfortunately, no. I'm beginning to believe she must glue them in place or something."

She laughed outright. "And what about you dearest, are you also glued into place?" Her hand took a dip south to cup him between the legs.

He raised one inquiring brow. "What do you think?" He waited as she delicately traced the outline of his erection, the caress of her fingers was light enough to make him ache for more, and yet firm enough to take his mind off of his troubles.

"I believe your spirit is as wild and free today as it was when we first met." Her smirk grew into an invitation when she pinched the head of his cock and watched him jump.

"Where's the baby?" He asked with serious intent.

"Napping." The comment was more than a casual reply, it was a dare, a challenge, and a conquest that only he was entitled to undertake.

Doc quickly emptied his glass and sat forward. "Thank God." He declared before setting his wife on her feet and ushering her to their bedroom.

An hour later and he felt like a new man. He turned onto his side, propped his elbow on a feathered pillow and rested his head in the palm of his hand so that he could stare down at his naked wife. She was quietly snoozing, not completely asleep but languidly drifting in and out of peaceful relaxation. With one finger he lightly traced the bridge of her nose, skirting around the fine arch of her brow, before caressing the rim of one ear. He was rewarded by a sexually satisfied smile before she sighed with contentment and drifted off again.

Leaning down close to her he whispered four little words that were uttered like a prayer everyday since she committed her whole heart and soul to him and the world he lived in. "I love you, Alexis."

Even though she slept she still smiled, the depth of her affection brought tears to his eyes. Gently, he brushed his lips against her cheek and was giving serious consideration to disturbing her rest to engage in another round of sex when he was suddenly startled by a strange sound.

Immediately he sat up and looked about the room, half expecting to hear scraps of conversation from Wyatt or Morgan chattering one story below as they passed under the open window, but that thought was misplaced. He knew well enough that the ex-lawmen were on their way to New York to look at two thoroughbred horses for sale. Only a light breeze and the sound of birds singing in the trees greeted his ears, but it wasn't the clatter of nature that caused the hair on his arms to stand on end. The sound had been distinctly human, almost like a hum of amusement and it seemed to come from across the room.

Normalcy met his eyes as he surveyed his surroundings. Nothing but the familiar sight of a very comfortable bedroom was laid out before him. There was no visible cause for alarm, no reason for his heighten senses to be silently screaming of danger. All he saw was the result of Alex's hard work.

His wife had worked for more than two weeks perfecting the décor in the master suite. The burgundy carpet was plush; the coordinating drapes long and heavy with soft flowers floating across the fabric. The furniture had taken her weeks of shopping in Philadelphia while he attended his classes at the college. She had finally decided on a design that fell somewhere between a feminine and masculine gender with walnut wood in a dark stain. There was a small sofa and chair at one corner of the room near the fireplace. Next to that a tall bookcase filled with all manner of books. On the opposite wall was his dresser, and near the window at the end of the room stood her dresser and vanity table, so that she might have the morning light to fix her hair and makeup. The finishing touch was a large cedar chest positioned at the end of the bed. And finally there was the bed, which was the focal point of the room and truly unique. She had it constructed several inches bigger than most beds, which of course needed special size linen to fit it, but he didn't care. Made in the same style as the rest of the furniture, it was a four-poster bed with canopy made from the same fabric as the curtains.

All in all, it was a beautiful room, and one he enjoyed spending the most time in not only because of the intimacy that was share here, but because Alex had extended so much effort to make sure the bedchamber was comfortable for both of them.

In his humble opinion, their new home was a triumph. The structural design was mostly his idea, with Alex's input and approval, of course. He had chosen a Georgian style home, to remind him of his Southern roots, but with one difference, rather than use plain boards and beams for the structure, Alexis and he had selected Kentucky stone, giving the house an original look but with an native air. Like most antebellum style homes, the house had three stories with the upper two floors reserved for the bedrooms. On the ground floor almost all the windows were tall and shaded by deep-wide porches, one in the front of the house and two in the back. One rear patio was on the second floor, just off their master bedroom, and accessible by French doors; the other was on the ground floor for the kitchen.

The inside of the home was just as Southern. A wide entrance way and formal staircase greeted their guests. His and her sitting rooms were situated on either side of the main hall. Beyond those rooms were the dinning room, a formal sitting room for company, and a room that served as a library as well as his study.

The kitchen was entirely Alex's domain. It was in the very back of the building and took up the entire width of the house. Any design ideas he might have had were only structural. The layout, cabinets, stove, window placements, length and width of countertops were entirely Alex's. She had been explicit about her ideas with the builder, even to the point that she traveled back to Kentucky with him during one of his breaks from school to oversee the interior construction. He had tried to talk her out of traveling only because she had been six-months pregnant at the time and he had been worried about her comfort, but she had been stubborn and insisted on going.

As it turned out his concerns were unfounded. Alexis withstood any discomfort from the train ride, and actually seemed to thrive during the trip. Allie and Louisa were thrilled to see her and the three women spent every waking second together making plans and discussing babies. Louisa, having just delivered a fine daughter, was adjusting well to motherhood. Alex took the opportunity to learn as much as she could from her about caring for a newborn in the nineteenth century.

They stayed in Kentucky for three weeks before returning to Philadelphia. During the trip back, Alex confessed to feeling worried and inadequate about being a mother in this antiquated century. When he pressed her for details she admitted she was unsure about feeding and caring for the baby in such an old fashion environment. Puzzled by her attitude he asked how modern women learned to care for babies. Birthing classes, books, and videos was the answer to his stupid question. He should have realized pregnancy was openly discussed during her time, but in this era it was still considered an inappropriate topic for public discussion, and with Louisa and Allie in Kentucky, Alex had no one to talk to.

Until that moment he hadn't realized how anxious his wife had been. School had taken up much of his time, leaving Alexis alone at the hotel for most of the day. Shame washed over him as they talked. He realized he had been neglecting his wife during a particularly important phase of her life, leaving her feeling isolated, afraid and insecure. Alex had assured him that her mind was calmer now. The visit with Louisa and Allie gave her the opportunity to see first hand how a newborn is cared for, and also to ask as many questions as she could.

He learned a valuable lesson on that train ride back to city. During their remaining time in Philadelphia he amended his ways and paid more attention to her needs.

Again he looked anxiously around the room as he tired to discern the nature of the strange noise. Perhaps his ears were playing tricks. As tired as he was it was entirely possible he had imagined the sound. Extra long hours at his dental office were the chief cause for his fatigue. Recently, three of his patients required emergency procedures, which amounted to several late nights. Then the only other dentist in town fell ill, leaving his patients with no other option but to knock on his door.

He wasn't complaining. A teaming practice is what he always wanted. It felt good to finally use all the instruments and techniques he learned in school. Rather than pull a rotten tooth, pat the patient on the back and tell him to rinse his mouth out with saltwater like he would have out West, he was now performing constructive surgery, building gold crowns, fitting bridgework, dentures and even braces. The challenges were plentiful and his skill level was increasing by the month. After waiting more than ten years, he finally felt like a doctor of dentistry.

But the pace was getting to him. He needed more sleep, and more time to relax with his friends while he caught up on all the details and problems on the horse farm with Virgil, Wyatt and Morgan. But mostly he wanted more private time with Alex and his son. He didn't like leaving her alone so much. Even after three stable and blissful years of marriage there was still the underlining fear that one day he'd come home and find that she was gone. They were groundless thoughts and ridiculous feelings, but by six o'clock every evening all he could think about was going home.

Passing a soothing hand over the goose bumps on his arms, he glanced once more at his sleeping wife, making sure all was well with her before he tossed back the covers and rose from the bed.

He strolled into the adjoining bathroom, one of several lavatories within the home, to splash cold water on his face. _Plumbing…what a wonderful invention,_ he thought as he shut off the tap and dried his hands. After living without it for most of his life, running to and from hauling buckets of water, he doubted very much he could do without such luxury again.

He took a quick glance at his face in the mirror and was pleased by his reflection. Cheekbones that had at one time stood out sharply from his face were now calmer and more softly concealed under the thirty pounds of flesh he had gained since his miraculous recovery. Even after all this time he was still amazed, in awe really, by his good fortune. He chuckled softly while running his fingers over his end-of-the-day-beard. Not a day went by that he didn't give thanks for the return of his health.

But his new founded health had one temporary drawback, and the dilemma snuck up on him, taking him completely off guard. After the wedding, but before leaving for their trip east, he had suddenly outgrown all his clothing. Not one damn suit fit him. The evidence was clearly displayed one morning while dressing to attend a meeting with several prominent businessmen in Tombstone. He had simply bent over to brush off his boots and was rudely addressed by the tearing of fabric. Before he could ask his wife what had happen she burst out in hysterical laughter and fell off her chair.

The object of her humor didn't take long for him to discover as a cool breeze passed through the torn fabric in the seat of his pants. He could only scowl at her as she jeered up at him from the floor. "Obviously it's time to see Mrs. Ott, dearest." She snickered.

His new face as well as his new clothes were second nature to him now. Occasionally, he would meet up with an old friend who wasn't familiar with his healthy look and the customary exclamation of surprise would follow, but most of his acquaintances were familiar with his appearance now. Although, whenever his father came to visit he would continuously remark about his development for at least the first hour. No one was as amazed by his recovery, it seemed, then his own family. Even more amazing then his good health was the realization that not one person outside his close personal circle asked how his recovery was achieved. Of course his close friends, the Earps, knew how and why he still lived and breathed, and the answer was, at the moment, sleeping soundly in his bed. Alex was truly exceptional, and it appeared that her biological makeup was hereditary. So far, their son, John Henry, Jr., hadn't known one day of illness. Doc wondered briefly if his future children would also be blessed with Alex's gift.

Folding the small towel across the hanger, he stepped silently out of the bath and stood by the bed. Alex was still sleeping soundly. _She must be tired too,_ he thought. Tonight after dinner he would ask her if she needed extra help around the house. The last thing he wanted was a wife who was too weary to keep him company at the end of the day.

Grabbing his robe from the closet, he slipped his arms into the silk material. The smooth sensation of the fine fabric always sent electric shocks of pleasure across his flesh. This was European silk and just one of the three robes he had purchased in France. Three robes was a lot when he considered that he already owned several more, but the clothing overseas was of such good quality he had trouble controlling his urges. Alex had blatantly called him a clotheshorse. He didn't argue with her or become offended by her remark only because he knew she was one-hundred percent correct. He was a clotheshorse, and a damn proud one at that. The closet in their bedroom was all the evidence needed to support his status; his clothing claimed most of the space inside. Alex's wardrobe was comparably smaller despite the amount of room her dresses consumed. If his darling wife had her way, her clothing would consist of nothing but men's pants, but to please him she conformed to social standards and his wishes. He knew she missed her casual style of dress, and so he kept his mouth shut during the few times she broke tradition and rode her new mare cowboy style wearing an old pair of his pants.

Virgil, the traditionalist that he is, didn't display that amount of discretion and caused an uproar when he caught Allie and Alex out riding disguised as men. The incident had been innocent enough, both women had contained their ride to the open fields of the estate and away from public view, but their good fortune ran out when they tried to sneak the horses back into the barn. Virgil and he had wandered into the stable to inspect Wyatt's latest racer and caught the women red-handed.

Doc chuckled softly at the memory. Both women had tried to look contrite and remorseful as Virgil vented his anger, but minute-by-minute their humor proved too hard to contain. It was his wife that snickered first. Allie shortly followed. By the time Virgil stormed out of the barn both women were rolling on the floor emitting peals of laughter. Alex had added to their mischief by sitting in a large pile of horseshit, which of course only made her laugh harder.

It took Allie a week of wearing provocative aprons to calm Virgil down.

Stepping away from the open closet, he gave the door a push closed with the side of his foot while tying the sash around his waist. Perhaps it was only the whooshing sound of the silk belt, but he could have sworn he heard that odd droning again.

_I'm tired,_ he thought as he walked over to coffee table that held a small silver tray and one large decanter of scotch. _I should have napped with Alex. _He kept his back to the room as he poured a large drink hoping to calm his nerves. Setting the canister back in place he turned to survey the room again. Every hair on both of his arms was erect and brushing against the long sleeves on his robe, but why? He shook his head to clear the sensation. _Damn tired._

Immediately he tipped the glass back and consumed its contents, knowing that three fingers of scotch would calm the most frayed of temperaments, but while lowering the glass he caught a movement from the corner of his eye.

The incident, if he had indeed witnessed a strange object, had been so brief that he was unable to describe what he saw. It looked like a moving puff of smoke, a very small puff of smoke that might have come from a smoking cigar or one of his cigarettes. It moved horizontally, hovering five feet from the floor, starting at the foot of the bed and disappeared entirely when it reached the drapes that hung over the French doors to the porch.

Despite his restraint he jumped, and lost his grip on the glass. The stillness of the room was broken by a sharp clang when the crystal glass struck the silver tray and bounced to the floor.

Alex let out a startled cry and immediately sat up.

"Sorry, darlin." Doc offered while he stooped to retrieve the glass. "I'm clumsy today." He showed her the glass and shrugged. How he managed to act so calm was a mystery. Perhaps his instincts were still as sharp as they had been while living out west. Whatever the reason, he was able to hide his apprehension from her.

Alex smoothed her nerves by brushing her hair back from her face. "I must have fallen asleep. John, why didn't you wake me?" She quickly rose from the bed and stretched, giving him a perfect view of her long, lean and quite naked body.

Not even pregnancy altered her athletic form. Muscles that had been toned when they first met were still just as defined now, almost three years later. But she worked hard on maintaining her shape. She exercised several times a week with weights, and walked two miles every morning.

As a matter of fact, her routine had so intrigued him that he often joined her on her sunrise excursions. Not only did he find the exercise beneficial, but it also allowed both of them some quiet time together, something that only the two of them shared away from the rest of the world. During their walks she belonged entirely to him and to no one else.

Still naked, Alex began to remake the bed, fluffing pillows, pulling up and smoothing the sheets and quilt. He stood across the room and watched her, making no move to assist her or for that matter fetch her a robe. Like a proud husband, he admired her beauty while he let his lust secretly build. A small, masculine smile was just starting to emerge when the hum startled him again.

"Did you say something, John?" Alex inquired without looking up from her task.

Did she hear the noise too, or was it only his reaction that got her attention? He choked back a curse while making an attempt to appear calm. "No."

His effort fell short. Something in his tone must have alerted Alex for she suddenly haltered her movements and turned toward him. "Are you feeling all right? You're as pale as a ghost."

_Ghost? _

That eerie feeling was back and skating across his skin again. "I'm fine. Just a little tired." He quickly turned away from her concerned expression and set his glass down on the small table. "It must have been the baby. I'll go check." Without another word he quickly strolled from the room.

Maybe running away wasn't so smart, leaving his wife alone in a room where he had just been seeing and hearing strange things. Then again, maybe it was a brilliant maneuver on his part. After all, why crack up in front of your spouse when you didn't have to?

Little John's room was directly across the hall. Silently he turned the doorknob and entered. The room was softly lit by indirect sunlight filtered by floor length baby-blue drapes that hung across the windows. In the center of the room stood his son's crib. Carefully he approached and was greeted by two very alert blue eyes gazing up at him. "My little man is awake." He cooed to the boy while reaching to pick him up.

The thrill of fatherhood was a sensation he would never grow accustomed to. His heart still constricted to the point of tears when he would reach down to pick up his son and those two soft chubby arms would reach back up to receive his embrace.

John Junior was two-years old now, and the toddler's constant attention level always amused him. Eagerly he would play with almost anything, trying his best to understand whatever held his attention at the moment. It seemed that his energy was boundless, and then like a playful puppy, he would exhaust himself and collapse on the spot. The ways and positions that John would fall asleep never ceased to amaze his parents. At the dinner table, in the backyard, on the floor by his wife's chair, John would simply tip over and snooze. How many times had Alex wished for a camera to capture the newest pose his son created?

But the baby was refreshed and very awake after his nap. His warm arms wrapped firmly around his neck as he cooed a loud, "Da Da."

"That, little sir," Doc replied while sitting with his son in a nearby rocking chair, "is my favorite word. Say it again for me."

"DA!" The child called out loudly this time.

Doc smiled gently and kissed his son's cheek. "Thank you, John." He nuzzled against the sweet-smelling skin and breathed deeply before tickling the boy with his full mustache.

Little John let out a high-pitched giggle and tried frantically to capture his father's facial hair. While Doc played with and tickled his son, he felt the uneasiness that had enveloped him earlier dissipate. The noises, strange sensations and ghostly puffs of smoke were obviously all figments of a fatigued mind. He was just thinking about taking a few days off from work when he clearly heard, "He has Alex's eyes."

Doc Holliday let out a startled cry and jumped in his chair. "Who is that?" He called in an angry voice. For several seconds the air crackled with silence. Not even the birds answered his demand, but Doc still couldn't ignore the rising alarm coursing through his body. "Answer me!" He shouted while draping a protective arm around the baby.

"Da Da up." Little John called out and pointed excitedly toward the window.

Poking out from under the floor length curtain Doc could see the tips of two worn boots hiding underneath.

He was instantly on his feet and backing toward the bedroom door, shifting his son to rest against his one hip while reaching across his chest for a gun that was no longer there. _Damn it_, he thought through his rising panic. With his heart pounding and a fear-driven sweat breaking out on his brow, he lowered his hand and reached back for the doorknob instead.

The curtain waved as if blown by a pleasant breeze right before his view of the cheerful fabric was suddenly obscured. Doc felt his heart lurch to a stop as a ghostly face emerged out of thin air like a submerged figure slowly surfacing from a deep stream. "Mal. Mal." Little John called in a happy greeting.

"Malachi!" Doc hissed.

"Hello, Holliday." The dead Guardian called back in an unruffled tone, giving the frightened dentist a slight nod of his chin and a soft know-it-all smile.

The vaporous image was becoming stronger, more solid by the second and with each passing moment Doc was becoming more alarmed. He watched in horror, too taken off guard to gather his reason, and yet too fascinated to flee from the room. "You're dead!" He finally snapped once the spectral spirit had taken solid form.

The ghost's grin doubled in size. "Oh, quite true, I'm very dead, so have no fear Dr. Holliday. I mean no harm to you or your family." As if to show how innocent he really was, Malachi shifted his stance, leaned back against the window frame, and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans. He continued to smile.

"Mally!" Little John cried while holding out his hand to the spirit.

Shocked that his son knew the ghost by name, Doc reached out and captured the child's arm. It seemed impossible, but he somehow managed to wrap his arms more protectively around the baby. "What… what do you want? Why are you here?" He spit with more venom than he was feeling at the moment.

Malachi shrugged lightly. "Nothing really. Just paying a friendly visit, making sure my wife is happy in her new life."

Ignoring his 'my wife' reference Doc repeated, "You're dead."

When Malachi chuckled again Doc's skin crawled at the soft human tone of the ghost's laughter. "Yes, we've established that."

"I must be losing my mind." Doc replied more to himself then to Malachi. He stared hard at the apparition, looking for any sign of the vampire that had terrorized Tombstone more than three years earlier, taking in every aspect of his appearance, starting first with his feet before moving upward to finish with his hair. Everything about him was non-threatening and seemed blissfully normal… for a ghost.

Malachi wore faded blue jeans, and scuffed brown boots that had seen better days but were obviously so worn and broken in that they would no longer feel like shoes, but would have grown into a comfort that would closely resemble cozy slippers. The tee shirt he wore was a faded blue left un-tucked and draped over a brown belt. Over that was an unbuttoned long sleeve white-collar shirt with the cuffs rolled above the wrists, leaving exposed just a hint of the tattoos on his forearms. Around his right wrist was a silver bracelet of Irish eternity knots. Hung around his neck – the very same neck that Alex had sent her sword sailing through severing his head from his body – was a silver crucifix. His complexion was nothing like Doc remembered. Gone was the pale-pasty pallor he sported as a vampire. His skin looked healthier, flushed with color, and radiated a warm glow as if Malachi had just returned from a day at the beach. Only his hair remained unchanged sporting the same thick texture, rich chestnut color that fell just below his ears and across his brow.

Malachi's smile took on more confidence, clearly becoming more amused by the second. "I know what you're thinking Holliday. I can almost hear the words struggling to escape your mouth." The ghost changed postures. Hunching his shoulders, he crunched his face into a scowl while extending one shaky finger in Doc's direction and in a quivering crackling voice quoted, '_You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!' _"

His carriage and voice returned to normal as he laughed at his own humor. "That's Dickens, of course. I'll admit, spooking you holds tremendous appeal and possibly hours and hours of amusement." He shrugged and let loose an overdramatized sigh. "But I've decided to restrain myself."

Pushing away from the window, the ghost took several silent steps forward, stopping just a mere three feet from Doc. Raising one amused eyebrow at the rising panic clearly displayed on the gambler's face, Malachi continued. "Not for your sake, mind you, but for Alex's and your little boy."

Doc felt his heart lurch as the ghost approached. _This can't be happening,_ he thought. But it was, it had to be. The only alternative explanation for his delusion would be his loss of reason, and that concept was even more frightening. Malachi made not a sound when he walked across the room, but that wasn't what started the slight tremble coursing through Doc's body. The stealthy approach could be explained by the carpeted floor, but how to explain the fact that that man displaced no air around him when he walked.

"Jesus." Doc hissed and took an involuntary step backward, bumping up against the bedroom door.

Unlike his father, Little John was not the least bit upset by Malachi's visit. Once again the baby held out his hand high in the air, fingers spread, palm facing outward. "Fi. Fi." He cooed to the apparition.

Malachi raised his hand to smack it against the child's. "High five, Little John." He teased. Only instead of striking palm to palm, Malachi's hand passed through the baby's hand before he lowered it.

Doc quickly jerked his body around and away from Malachi, moving the child beyond the spirit's reach. "Good God. You're really a ghost… and, you've been playing with my son!"

"Oh, we're good friends, John Jr. and I." He remarked casually. "We've chattered like two monkeys many a night after you've put him to bed."

"Get out, damn you, and leave my family alone!"

Malachi pursed his lips and gave him a slow shake of his head. "Tsk, tsk. Temper, temper, Holliday. My wife is about to walk through that door. I don't want to upset her."

"My WIFE!" Doc spit as his rising temper gave him false courage. The bedroom door suddenly opened, smacking Doc sharply in the back.

"John?" Alex called from the other side. "I heard you call. What's wrong?"

Doc only looked away for a second, but it was long enough for Malachi to vanish. When he looked back the room now stood empty of all supernatural deceased Guardians. "Bloody hell!" He cursed softly. The door struck him again, not once but two more times. He stepped to one side to allow Alex entry, but continued to keep his eyes on the room around him.

She walked in cautiously, glancing briefly at his face and then behind the door. "Were you standing in front of the door?"

"Uh… Just on my way out. We almost collided." He lied smoothly.

"Oh." She gave him an odd look while taking the baby from him. "What is it, John? You're still as white as a sheet. Are you feeling unwell?" Before he could answer she was already reaching for him, looking to make tactile contact so that she could see for herself if sickness plagued him.

Doc quickly intercepted her hand and pushed her arm gently away, making sure he stayed in contact with the long sleeve of her gown so that her ability to read him would be muffled by the cloth. "I'm fine, darlin, just a little tired… and hungry, I think." He kept his eyes averted, refusing to look her in the face until he had a chance to recover from his experience. "Will dinner be ready soon?" Keeping his gaze on the baby, he leaned in and kissed the child's cheek.

Alex frowned and continued to stare at her husband sensing that he was disturbed by something. She reached for his arm, resting her hand across his bicep with the intend of holding him still, yet at the same time noting how firm the muscle was and how much it had grown lately. Normally she would have remarked about his improved physique but the underlining tremble she felt in his arm made her pause. _Well, damn it, something was wrong._ She glanced quickly at the baby and saw only his normal happy temperament, which told her that only Doc was affected. "Dinner's ready now if you're that hungry. I made pot roast. Why don't you dress while I change Little John?"

Doc nodded slightly without making eye contact and turned toward the door. _Is he mad at me?_ Alex wondered briefly. _What did I do now?_ He was just breeching the doorway when she added, "Have a drink, John, you look like you could use one, and while you're at it pour me one too."

Once out in the hallway Doc let his controlled expression crumble. He propped his back against the hallway, ran a trembling hand across his brow and glanced back at the now open door that lead to his son's room. Thankfully, Alex hadn't followed. From inside the room he could overhear her playful conversation with the baby while she went about changing his diaper. Now that the incident was over he was unsure of exactly what took place. Had he really been conversing with his wife's late husband, or did he just have a complete collapse of his mental facilities? _But the baby saw him too,_ he realized, _or was that also just a part of my delusion?_

He shook off his disturbing thoughts and crossed the hall and stepped into the bedroom. Alexis was right, he should have a drink; perhaps he'd have several tonight. Maybe he'd get good and drunk and spend the rest of the evening making love to his wife. _Nice way to relieve stress_, he thought, _hope Alex feels inclined to oblige me._

The room was blissfully empty when he entered – no ghosts, no puffs of mysterious smoke, and no delusions to confront him. He walked directly to the decanter of scotch and poured a large drink, tossing the entire contents down his throat. A chemical warmth instantly spread throughout his body soothing his frayed nerves. One or two deep breaths and he was beginning to feel almost normal. Once again he filled the glass before turning his attention toward his closet and what he would wear for dinner. Should he dress causally? Or perhaps something more stylish was called for if he wanted to intrigue his wife. But even before he reached his closet he became aware he wasn't alone.

Malachi was back and this time lounging comfortably across the bed, head propped up against the multiple pillows, feet causally crossed at the ankles and one shit-eating grin plastered to his face. "What's up, Doc?" A gush of laughter followed that only increased Doc confusion and rising anger. "I can tell from the look on your face that Alex has never told you about Bugs Bunny. You should ask her about it later. So, did you miss me, Doc?"

"Hell, no." Doc replied without hesitation while ignoring the odd train of thought from the ghost. It must have been the liquor coursing through his system because this time the shock of seeing an apparition was minimized. Actually, this entire scenario was proving to be intriguing. Doc kept his eyes on the spirit and took another deep drink from his glass. "What the fuck do you want, Malachi?"

The ghost chuckled again. "Now is that anyway to treat a guest and such language too? I can see your western-pioneer-outlaw-mannerisms didn't completely depart after you settled east. Why don't you take some of my silver and buy yourself a new attitude, Holliday? My wife might appreciate it. I know I will."

Doc smiled boldly, as if he was enjoying the humor, but the façade fell short of replacing the cold gleam in his eyes. "Your remarks, Malachi, are like the impression you are making on my bed – nonexistent. One could even go as far to say it bears a resemblance to the impression you made in life. That too was just as inconsequential."

The barb hit home. Any joy the spirit displayed fell sharply away and was replaced by a sudden expression of sadness. Doc lingered over the wound he inflicted, took another causal sip of his drink before walking over to the closet. Without really considering what he was going to wear, he pulled out his light-gray suit, white shirt and red cravat and draped the clothes over his dresser. He started to get dress, purposely keeping his back turned toward the bed, hoping if he ignored the ghost long enough Malachi would get weary of being overlooked and go away.

The ploy didn't work. "You wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for me." Malachi replied from his position on the bed. "Two, or maybe three more years, Holliday, that's all the time you'd have left if I hadn't started a chain of events that altered your life." The remark was said without malice, it was a fact, a part of reality that was meant to haunt rather than insult. "Do you want me to tell you how long the other Doc Holliday lingered in his death bed? How he gasped out his last breath, spitting blood, delirious with fever, loveless and alone in a hotel room. Would you care to know the details of the last miserable years of his life?"

Doc sighed loudly and turned back toward the bed. "What do you want, Malachi?" He asked again but without any hint of meanness this time.

The ghost shrugged. "Truthfully, I'm not sure. I don't know why or how I came to be here. But what I do know is you're the object of my visit. Alex isn't supposed to see or hear me."

Doc frowned. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. Maybe, we're not meant to understand. Believe it or not, there are powerful forces at work that bend us and our lives, Holliday, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it but go with the flow."

"How about if you flow back to where you came from and leave me and my family alone. Alex is happy now. I've given her a home and a child. Something you refused to do, or did you forget how you hurt her? Perhaps you need to be reminded. I know your history too and can relate it just as easily. So, fuck off before I call a priest and have you exorcized."

Malachi threw back his head and laughed, a rich warm laugh that told Doc his insults had no affect whatsoever. "God, what a bastard you are." He continued to chuckle. "I have to tell you, Holliday, I'm really enjoying our little talk. You know, for a while I thought engaging you when you weren't wearing your guns would let all the wind out of your sails, but it hasn't. I'm impressed, really."

"Trust me, Malachi, if I could shoot you now I would." He turned sharply away and began to button his shirt.

"You would what?" Alex asked as she glided into the room. Once again she paused with a concerned expression on her face and looked around the room.

Doc quickly glanced toward the bed and saw it was devoid of all spirits leaving no impression behind to mark the bedspread.

"Mumbling to yourself, John." Alexis offered as she slipped into his embrace. Quickly, before he could stop her, she rested her fingers against his neck, and evaluated his physical condition but found no illness. Please with her discovery, she also noted his trembling had ceased.

"Apparently, I was thinking out loud." He replied; amazed by his quick recovery and easy lies that were flying from his mouth. "I've no excuse, darlin, I'm only on my second drink."

"Third," Alex corrected, "but who's counting."

He tossed her a suspicious glance, and Alex added, "An educated guess, derived from my personal knowledge of your drinking habits and from the level of scotch left in the bottle." She nodded toward the decanter on the coffee table.

He pressed her hard against his body and nuzzled against the sweet smelling skin on her neck. "Care to join me." He crooned. "Want to get drunk and fool around, Mrs. Holliday?" The sudden need to claim her as his own was overwhelming. The need to fuck her loudly on the bed and in the presence of her ghostly past was irrational, but he would do it just the same if she didn't stop him.

Alex placed a halting hand on his chest and pulled back. "I thought you were hungry? The maid is feeding the baby in the kitchen and I just set the dining room table for our dinner."

"I'll take that as a no." He countered but kissed her anyway.

"I've opened a nice Bordeaux for our dinner. Let's start with that and see where the evening takes us. Afterwards, we can try the brandy Wyatt bought us for Christmas last year. I will be very much impressed if you can get me drunk and into bed before the liquor wears off."

"Getting you into bed, Alexis, has never been a problem." He flinched when she playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "It's how to get you drunk first that has always alluded me. Your advance immune system puts a halt to all my fun, but as always, I shall give the matter my full attention and try once again to get you snookered. Let's take the brandy to bed with us this time." He pulled her in close against his groin, bracing his hands across her backside as he held her. "I'll pour the liquor in you, and then I'll pour it on you and spend a great deal of time licking it off. We'll both benefit from the experience."

She laughed at his wantonness and reached up to tie his cravat. "You're a lush, John Holliday and I love you all the more for it."

He echoed her laughter. "Good. I hope to keep you satisfied that way. Let's go downstairs. The sooner we eat, the sooner I can get you naked." He promptly turned her around and began to push her out of the room, but over his shoulder he cast one parting look at the empty bedroom and wondered if and when Malachi would show up again.

Dinner was uneventful… but only for the first ten minutes. By the time the main course was served Malachi had reappeared to linger in the corner behind Alex's chair. Oddly, Doc found he was thankful for one thing – he could keep the ghost within sight without diverting his eyes from Alex, which was probably the reason the spirit chose that corner to hover in.

From under her lashes, Alex watched her husband drain his wine glass in one swallow and place the crystal glass on the table with a thud. She kept her head lowered while cutting a tender potato in two. "How's the wine?" She asked before delicately placing the morsel in her mouth.

Doc reached for the bottle, refilled his glass before topping off Alex's. "It's fine." He replied curtly. Again he tipped back his head and consumed half the glass.

Alex looked at him directly this time and tried to find the reason for his drastic change in temperament. From one minute to the next, he had gone from a flirtatious mood to a bad one and for no reason that she could see. "Really?" She countered with one raised brow. "You passed the liquid so quickly down your throat I'm surprised you could form an opinion. Such a waste of time pouring it in the glass first, John. Why not save yourself the effort and drink directly from the bottle."

"Leave me alone, Alex." He snapped while glancing at the ghost. Malachi stood as one unconcerned with the occupants in the room; causally braced against the corner, he was quietly studying the decorations that adorned the walls. With a great deal of effort Doc pulled his eyes away from the spirit and back down at his half eaten meal. Picking up his fork he proceeded to stab a tender chuck of beef, swab it with gravy and place it in his mouth.

"How's the roast then?" Alex asked casually. "Being a solid substance, and much harder to swallow whole, you would need to chew it, of course, which would allow you the ability to taste it and then form an opinion." She paused from her meal to wait for his answer, her expression one of seriousness, which only increased the sarcastic nature of her question.

From behind her, Malachi suddenly snorted with laughter.

Doc stopped chewing and flashed fiery eyes at him.

Thinking his angry expression was aimed at her Alex startled at the abrupt appearance of his temper. "Oh, for Christ's sake, John, I was only teasing you. There's no need to get upset with me."

Amazed that Alex couldn't hear or see the ghost, Doc blinked and swallowed his food along with his temper. "I'm not upset, darlin, only…." He paused, letting his eyes rest on Malachi for a moment noting the smug expression the ghost wore before he continued, "feeling the affects of the day. Forgive me if my mood is foul this evening. It is not the company, nor the meal."

Alex shook her head with confusion. "You're very contrary tonight, love. I've never seen you like this, and I confess I'm not sure how to deal with it."

Behind her chair Malachi mimicked Alex by also shaking his head only he addressed it at Doc, telling the dentist he was wrongfully upsetting his wife.

"Well, I shall blame it on the wine." Alex offered. "Perhaps we should switch to the Brandy sooner than we planned." She gave him a teasing wink before rising from her chair to fetch the precious bottle.

Touched by her forgiving nature Doc stopped her by reaching for her arm. He threaded his fingers through hers, raised her hand to his lips and gave her a sultry glance. "You are a woman wise beyond your years, Alexis, and I'm thankful for it."

Her hand lingered by his cheek caressing the care and stress she found there. "But… if there were something wrong you would tell me, wouldn't you John? You and I shouldn't hide things from each other. I learned from past experience that secrets are never healthy for a marriage."

Doc kept his eyes on Alex but his answer was directed toward Malachi. "There is nothing wrong, Alex, but if there were I would tell you. I've no intention of putting you through the same hell Malachi did. There will be no secrets between us, I promise."

Her kiss upon his lips was light, but the slight tremble Doc felt revealed the depth of her emotion. Without another word she turned away to fetch the brandy. _I'm upsetting her,_ he thought. He flashed angry eyes at Malachi. _And he's upsetting me._ "Go away" he mouthed to the ghost.

Malachi only shrugged helplessly as if he had no choice in the matter, reached into his front pocket to pull out a small penknife and began to clean his nails.

Judging from the carefree, unconcerned attitude the ghost displayed, it was obvious to Doc that any solution to the present circumstance would be up to him. Either Malachi had no intention of leaving, or for some unknown reason, he couldn't depart this realm and move on to the next one. The problem was not whether the ghost should leave; the problem was forcing the ghost leave. Whatever the means, he needed to do something quickly before he completely alienated his wife.

"It has been a strange day." Alex remarked from the opposite side of the room. She was crouching down and peering in the liquor cabinet looking for the bottle of brandy. "There's been a certain atmosphere in the house today. I can't explain it." She pulled the bottle from the back of the cabinet and stood. Grabbing two brandy glasses from the china hutch she returned to the table. "Perhaps it is only my active imagination, but sometimes I could swear I was being watched."

Doc had pushed away his half-eaten meal and was calmly rolling a cigarette. He was just barely able to maintain his casual façade as raging anger rolled through him. The last thing he wanted was for Alex to see and hear Malachi. For three years now she had been happy. The nightmares that had been a nightly occurrence for her were now extremely rare. Her days were spent taking care of the house and playing with her son. Vampires, zombies, night patrols, throwing darts, sharp wooden stakes and Scottish swords were all in the past and he intended to keep them there. But one look at Malachi's spirit and the peaceful existence he had created for her would be shattered.

Alex paused over the ruin remains of her pot-roast, shook her head with distaste, and set the bottle and glasses on the table. "I guess the meal is cold now." She remarked while waving her hand at Doc telling him not to bother explaining. "It's all right, you can have leftovers for lunch tomorrow." With that said she whisked away their plates and marched off to the kitchen. "Why don't you open the bottle and I'll bring in desert." She called over her shoulder. "Do you want coffee, John?"

"No. The brandy will do." He replied while fixing his gaze on Malachi. Once Alex had cleared the room Doc snapped a match, puffed on his cigarette for a moment before stating, "You're upsetting my marriage Malachi, I'm asking you again to leave."

"And I'm telling you again, that it's not up to me. I can't leave. I'm here without any say so."

"Nonsense. Take your spectral form and get out!" He hissed.

Malachi shrugged, "Can't."

"Why can't she see or hear you?" Doc abruptly asked.

"I don't want her to know I'm here. I told you before, I'm not here for her. I'm here for you, Holliday. And let me tell you buddy – love has got nothing to do with it. Do you think I like seeing another man fuck my wife?"

Doc sneered. "Not to mention doing it better than you did, from what Alexis tells me."

Malachi scowled in reply. "Careful, Holliday, talk like that will make you impodent. How would you like me sharing the sheets with you and Alex tonight? Have you ever had a three way?"

Doc ignored the question. "Get out! If you can't leave then at least stay outside." He hissed in a whisper.

Malachi looked beyond Doc's shoulder to see if Alex was returning. He stepped toward the table, paused for a moment before continuing, letting his spectral form pass through the solid wood table as he advanced toward Doc. "There's no fun in that." He remarked, stopping his approach directly in front of Doc. "I may not be able to enjoy the temptations of the flesh anymore, but I can have just as much fun fucking with your head, Holliday."

Doc tried not to show how unnerved he was by Malachi's intimidation, although with every passing encounter he was becoming more unraveled by the experience. "If you don't leave me alone, I'm going to tell Alex you're here. She's already sensing something is wrong and she knows I'm upset. I refuse to let your presence here start a fight with my wife."

Malachi smirked and called Doc's bluff. "Go ahead, tell her. We'll see then who gets upset over my little visit. Tell me Holliday, do you really think she's forgotten about me? Do you believe your presence, your love, has filled every little grief-driven hole my death caused her?" He leaned in close, stopping just inches from Doc's face. "If you do, you're wrong. She'll never forget me, and let me tell you something else; a part of her heart will always belong to me. You'll never own her completely. Never!"

Doc was seconds from exploding when Alex walked back into the room carrying plates and blueberry pie. Behind her trailed one of the servants carrying their son.

Malachi didn't disappear this time. Instead he stepped to one side and let the women approach. The ghost seemed to compose himself, shoving his hands back into his pockets as he rested his back against the dinning room wall. A small-satisfied smirk emerged on his lips.

Doc glanced briefly at Alex and quickly averted his eyes before she could fully read his expression. Reaching out, he took the baby from the servant and held the child on his lap. "Mally!" Little John called out and pointed at the ghost.

Fortunately, the maid was standing to one side of the spirit making it seem as if the baby was pointing at her. "I believe he's trying to say my name." The girl exclaimed.

Alex froze at the sound, the color quickly draining from her face. "Do you?" Alex remarked to the maid. "Do you really think he's trying to say your name, Sally? I thought I heard something else…" She brushed an unsettled hand over her hair. "Perhaps it's only the day, but…" She left her statement unfinished and turned away quickly, setting the desert on the table.

"Children have trouble annunciating the letter 'S', Alex." Doc quickly offered. He didn't like seeing the painful expression on Alex's face when she heard the dead Guardian's name, but her reaction only seemed to validate Malachi's earlier statement.

"Shall I take him upstairs, Dr. Holliday?" The maid asked.

Doc kissed his son's cheek and nodded toward the maid. "Read him a story, Sally. Mrs. Holliday and I will be up shortly." He passed the boy to the servant, breathing a sigh of relief that the baby was out of the room before he could speak to the ghost again.

Keeping one watchful eye on Alex as she served two slices of pie, Doc reached for the brandy and opened the bottle. He poured two generous glasses and dutifully pushed one glass across the table toward Alex. "Still feel like getting drunk and fooling around?" From across the room Malachi snorted with irritation and Doc felt his dark mood dissipate.

Her return smile was a weak one. Mentioning Malachi was more upsetting for her than he would have liked to see. "Want to bring the pie to bed too?" He teased. "You'd be luscious dripping in blueberry jam and brandy." He was rewarded with another faint smile so he continued by reaching for her hand to place a sensuous kiss on the inside of her wrist. "I promise to lick every morsel from your body."

When she finally turned to give him her full attention, Doc could have sworn he was about to hear a firm reprimand for his licentious behavior, but once again his wife surprised him.

"I'd love to." She replied with slight blush emerging on her cheeks. She paused for a moment to study the shocked look on his face before giving him a full-sensual smile. "Grab the pie, I'll take the brandy." She instructed in a husky voice.

Alex stopped in the bedroom long enough to place the brandy on the night table before walking across the hall to their son's room to put Little John to bed. While she was preoccupied, Doc proceeded to lower the lamps and pull back the covers on the bed. He had hoped Malachi would at least leave him alone during this intimate time with his wife. The image of his spectral form slipping between the sheets was enough to boil his blood all over again, when all he really wanted to do right now was make love to his wife until the sadness on her face disappeared. He was not pleased when he found Malachi sitting on the small sofa watching him with interest.

"She loves you very much, I can tell." The ghost's tone was one of resolve laced with defeat.

Doc stopped undressing to give the ghost his full attention. "Of course she does!" He snapped letting all the irritation he felt come to the surface. "Tell me Malachi, did you really think she'd leave her world to live in mine if she didn't love me? Would I have risked everything, my life and my friend's lives fighting your hellish army if I didn't love her?"

Again the ghost shrugged, keeping his eyes lowered he casually picked at a piece of lint on his clothing. "I was her first. Did you know that?" He slowly raised his eyes to look at the dentist. "I loved her first, before you. That makes her and me special, our relationship singularly unique. I… uh, I wanted to be remembered for that. To always be remembered for that."

Suddenly Doc understood what Malachi's visit was all about. Three years had passed since the war in Tombstone. Three years that Alex had been happy and complete, and in those three-long years not once had she mentioned his name, not even tonight when the reference hung unspoken in the air. This haunting, this spectral visitation was simply a nudge to the consciousness. Malachi was afraid of being forgotten.

Doc sighed loudly and studied the apparition. Was it his imagination or was Malachi's form not as solid as it once was. Couldn't he see the pattern of the sofa through the chest of the ghost? "I know you did, and I know that she will always treasure the years of your marriage. She loved you too Malachi, and that's not an easy thing for me to admit."

The ghost nodded without making eye contact. "I never meant to hurt her, you know that don't you. I loved her with every breath I had in my body. Even after those vampires captured me, until the moment I died, she was all I thought about." He finally raised his eyes to meet Doc's unwavering gaze. "Do you understand that, Holliday?"

Doc nodded. "I do."

Malachi sighed and looked at the clock on the mantel. "The evening's gotten late." Slowly, as if he were suddenly tired, Malachi struggled to his feet. His ghostly form was indeed fading; the structure of his body was becoming more transparent by the moment. "Do me a favor, Holliday; don't make it hard for her to talk about me. She wants to talk…she needs to talk to you, but she's afraid you won't understand."

"I'll try," Doc promised, "but not tonight." Could it be true, was he really leaving? Doc couldn't tell for sure.

Malachi laughed softly. "No, not tonight." He looked about the room for a moment as if trying to remember every little detail of the room. "It's a nice room." He remarked. "A nice life too, if you don't mind me saying so." Malachi didn't wait for Doc to respond. He turned and walked toward the French doors, but before he passed through them he stopped and turned back around. "It's been a pleasure haunting you, Holliday. Take care of my girl for me."

"I swear it." Doc answered and then added, "Don't come back, Malachi."

Malachi laughed once, turned and passed through the French doors and into the night.

When Alex finally returned from putting the baby down for the night she found her husband lying across the bed naked but for the open silk robe he wore. In one hand he held a large glass of brand, in the other a lit cigarette. On the mattress was a tray that held the pie and two forks. "You're late." He remarked and snubbed out his smoke.

Alex stifled a giggle with her hand. "Looks like you started without me. Should I come back later?"

He laughed in return before reaching under his robe to stoke his erection letting her see how full and hard he was. "Is that what you really want to do, Alex?"

All the muscles between her legs clenched. Was it her or did the room suddenly get warm, Alex couldn't tell, but that wasn't unusual. She always had trouble thinking whenever he got her hot like this. Transfixed like a deer frozen between the headlights of a car, she stood there and watched his hand glide up, and then glide down, as he stoked himself. The stimulation was not for his benefit, it was for her, all for her.

Finally Doc smiled, rose from the bed and made his way toward her. "Is the baby asleep?" He asked softly, quietly and with his mouth just a half-inch from her ear. His fingers were quickly and easily undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. Within moments he had the material cascading to the floor. Another quick flick of his fingers and her corset followed.

"Yes." She answered her mouth so dry she could hardly speak. "I read him a story." She added.

"You did?" He replied sweetly while pushing her underwear down her legs. "What did you read for him?"

"Nursery rhymes." She gasped when his finger slipped between her legs.

"Nursery rhymes are good. Come to bed, Alex and I'll tell you some dirty rhymes that I learned when I lived in Texas." He leaned in and kissed her deeply and with the full impact of his love. "I'm hungry for blueberry pie. I want to eat mine off of your naked stomach. Can I do that, Alexis?"

She gave him a husky laugh and began to lead him toward the bed. "Yes you can, John. Actually, I would be very disappointed if you didn't."

A couple of hours later and only the remnants of the pie remained. "I doubt very much the stains will ever come out of the sheets." Alex sighed with a satisfied smile lingering on her face.

"I'll buy you new sheets." Doc was busy spooning a dollop of blueberries on her nipple.

She giggled lightly. "Yes, you will at that." Any other reply she might have had was silenced when Doc began to lick off the jam. She threaded her fingers through his hair and held him tightly against her breast. "God, I love when you do that." She moaned.

He laughed at her wanton behavior before remembering that he was just as bad. "Blueberry pie most certainly beats apron night for entertainment." He smirked and reached for her hand. "Join me for a bath, Mrs. Holliday?"

"Yes, a bath would be good."

The next morning Doc woke to find Alex on the bedroom balcony sitting quietly on a wooden rocker mediating in the early morning sunlight. When he stepped out onto the porch to join her he got the impression he had disturbed her inner thoughts and whatever secret she harbored there. She gave him only the briefest of glances before turning her head to dab lightly at her eyes.

"After spending half the night making erotic love to my wife the last thing I expected to find the next morning are tears. What's wrong, Alex?"

She sniffed loudly and shook her head. "Oh it's nothing really, just feminine silliness." She offered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'll go make some coffee for us." She started to rise but Doc placed a firm hand on her shoulder holding her in place.

"Don't…. don't avoid me and indirectly whatever is bothering you. Talk to me, Alexis. Tell me what's on your mind." He reached for the nearest chair and pulled it around so that he could sit directly in front of her as they talked.

She averted her eyes as she struggled to control her emotions. "It's not important, John and most certainly not a topic you would want to discuss."

He studied her posture and expression for a moment, noting the sag in her shoulders, the nervous fidget in her hands, her furrowed brow and the slight tremble in her lip. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that? Tell me what's troubling you."

She scoffed lightly. "You're going to be mad." Glancing quickly at him she immediately looked away again.

"Will I? How bad could it be? Did you try to iron my clothes again and burn one of my shirts? Invite my father and his wife to move in with us? Sneak into the local saloon dressed in pants and spent the evening posing as a man? Sell my son to the gypsies? Have an affair with Wyatt? Christ, Alexis, what could you have done that would get me that upset?"

With each outrageous accusation she quickly shook her head until he finally managed to coax a smile from her. "You use to get made at me quite a bit before we got married." She reminded him.

"That was pure frustration, Alex. You were extremely frustrating back then: sneaking off whenever I fell asleep, doing your very best to keep me uninformed, getting into fights with demons from hell, running all over town in those tight leather pants that nearly drove me mad with lust. Thank God I finally to managed to secure you. I wouldn't have lasted much longer."

She laughed softly and dipped her head again but still offered no explanation for her sad mood.

Doc was running out of ideas, out of jokes, and nearly out of patience. A dark thought suddenly grabbed hold of his heart and he blurted his next question more forcefully than he intended. "You're _not_ having an affair with Wyatt, are you?"

Alex slipped a giggle and finally made eye contact with him. "God no. Whatever gave you that idea?"

He shrugged and sat back in his chair. "I don't know. Irrational fear I suppose."

She sighed loudly and blurted, "It's an anniversary that has me melancholy. Four years ago, on August eleventh, Malachi was killed. I didn't want to bring it up with your birthday just three days away. I know how hard it is for you to talk about my history with him, but… it's especially difficult for me to be cheerful at this time of the year. And to make matters worse, I found this on the porch floor this morning." She held out her hand and showed him a silver Celtic bracelet that was identical to the one ghostly Malachi had been wearing.

With trepidation, Doc took the bracelet from her and turned it around to examine it in the early morning light.

"That was Malachi's. It was a gift from me for his thirtieth birthday. He loved that bracelet. It was one of his favorite pieces of jewelry. The only time he took it off was to patrol or fight. I was thrilled when I found it safely packed inside his weapon bag." She leaned in closer and in a low voice added, "Doc, I had that packed away in a box, hidden in the back of the closet with the rest of my things from the twenty-first century. No one but you and I know that box is there. How the hell did that bracelet get out here on the porch floor?"

Doc's lips tightened but he kept his first impulsive response to himself. Apparently their visitor was more than a coincidence. He had thought his encounter with the dead Guardian was over, that his ghostly visitation was a one-time affair, but it now seemed that once a year Malachi would resurface and take a dominate position in his wife's heart, at least for a little while. Did Malachi know what day of the year it was? Did the dead have a concept of time? He hoped he would never found out. "Honestly, Alex, I don't know. Trust me, I didn't tamper with your things."

She sat back, her posture suddenly stiff with frustration. "Well I certainly didn't remove it." She snapped. Before he could defend himself she held up her hand and stopped him. "I'm not questioning your honesty, truly I'm not, but there's got to be a logical explanation. If you didn't get this out and I didn't, then… Well, am I to think my dead husband returned for a friendly visit and left this sitting on the porch so that I would find it? That's just too weird."

_If only you knew, darlin,_ he thought, _but that's exactly what the son-of-a-bitch did. _From deep in his chest he felt the urge to burst into hysterical laughter rising up, threatening to break free. If he didn't hold it at bay, any minute now his dark humor was going to reveal itself and then she really would be mad. He swallowed; bit the inside of his mouth hard enough to taste blood, but still the impulse wouldn't subside. What finally surfaced was a half controlled smile and a low chuckle. _Weird?_ Alex's idea of weird occurrences left a lot to be desired.

She gave him a dark look and like a shot was off the chair and almost back into the bedroom before he could grab her. "Wait… Alex, I'm not laughing at you."

"Looked that way to me."

He wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her smaller form. "I can't help but laugh at the situation… You think nothing of vampires and zombies, but for some unknown reason haunted jewelry is considered weird to you. I'm sorry; it just struck me as funny."

"Oh…" She replied and stopped struggling to break free from his embrace. "I guess it is odd when you look at it that way." His humor was infectious and she found herself laughing with him. She glanced at the bracelet again and shook her head confused. "Maybe I only thought I placed it in the box. I suppose I could have dropped it inside the closet and it got hung up on one of my dresses or perhaps on one of your coats and then fell off while we were outside."

"That's a possibility." He agreed all too quickly, secretly thankful for such a reasonable explanation.

She said nothing only lowered her head and continued to study the piece of jewelry, but he could see her eyes well up with tears and the haunted shadows that always accompany painful memories emerge. "I'll put it back and then make us some coffee."

Before she could turn away he leaned down and kissed her once. "Why don't you wear it?" He replied tenderly. "I see no reason why you shouldn't remember Malachi fondly. Wearing that bracelet would be a good way of honoring him." He took the silver bangle from her and slid it over her wrist.

Her brows creased with uncertainty as she looked down at her arm before she gazed back up at him looking for confirmation. Another kiss was all the affirmation she needed. "Now, let's go see if my son is awake." Doc suggested. "I bet he's hungry."

She rolled her eyes at him. "When is he not hungry? When are you not hungry?" She moaned while walking to the bedroom door. "Sometimes I feel like I'm back cooking at the Oriental again."

When they reached the baby's door she stopped him from opening it. "Wait… listen."

They paused and heard nothing. "What are we listening for?" Doc asked in a hushed voice.

"Lately, whenever I go to get him, he's been babbling out loud, like he's talking to someone. I hear some words and syllables but mostly just baby talk. I think he has an imaginary friend, John."

His body jerked as he thought again of Malachi conversing with his son.

Alex turned toward him. "Do you think he is pretending?"

Doc quickly shook his head and said a silent prayer that he would never again see his son playing with a ghost. "I think he's lonely and needs a sibling." He whispered back in jest.

A sly smirk emerged on Alex's face accompanied by an expression that Doc thought was vaguely familiar. "I'm glad to hear it, because I'm very certain I'm pregnant again."

Her confession took him by complete surprise. He smiled brightly while slipping his hand around her neck, bending down to kiss her softly. "Is this an early birthday present for me, darlin?"

She shrugged lightly. "That depends… would you rather have another child, or a puppy?"

He gave her a devilish smirk while struggling to keep his laugher in check. "What breed of puppy?" Any reply she had was smothered by his rich laughter as he opened the bedroom door and followed her inside the baby's bedroom.

**_The End For Now... _**


	3. Three Years, Nine Months Later

**Three Years and Nine Months Later...**

**Life has been peaceful for the ex-Guardian, but things are about to get complicated when trouble comes calling disguised as an old friend. **

* * *

**April 2003**

**In a large comfortable office at the Vatican, Rome, Italy…**

Cardinal Victor Rancini sat back in his desk chair to study the contents of a manila folder that he had received just two days ago. The file's subject matter was not abnormal for him. As the head of the European branch of the Guardian organization it was his responsibility to oversee any usual problems, and to do whatever was necessary to resolve any issues that might pose a threat to the secretive organization. What was disturbing, however, were the particulars contained within the one hundred and fifty-six-page document.

He sighed heavily and glanced at the heading on the file. McCulloch. The name alone was enough to tighten the bands in his chest, but upon reviewing the facts within, the sad events surrounding the subjects brought tears to his eyes.

Despite the sadness he was feeling his weak emotions remained hidden and controlled. It would not be fitting to let his colleagues or his superiors know how upset he was by this case. Death was common for the Guardians; so common in fact it was almost expected. But if a member managed to survive their years of service, then it would be grounds for a celebration and swift advancement to a training or investigative position within the organization. Sadly, Malachi and Alexis McCulloch gave their lives to the cause.

At least that's what he thought until this damn file was presented to him for further investigation.

A soft knock on his office door stirred him from his dark thoughts, but he barely looked up from the document he was reading as he called out, "Enter." His visitor, however, captured his full attention. Immediately, he set the file aside and turned toward his guest.

"Ah, Arthur, how good it is to see you." He stayed seated as the other man approached, extending his hand and the fore offered ring that graced it.

Arthur Wordsworth bowed over the cardinal's hand and customarily kissed the ring he wore. "Your Eminence," he replied somberly. "You call. I answer."

Rancini waved away the other man's ceremonial greeting and motioned for him to be seated at the opposite end of his desk. "You look well, Art. Is your arthritis behaving itself?"

The tall, elegant Englishman known as Arthur Wordsworth answered with a curt smile as he shrugged off his coat and hat and draped them over the back of the chair. Dressed in a charcoal gray suit, white shirt and navy blue tie, he was the very picture of conservatism, refinement and wealth. The cut of his outfit was accented by a full head of silver hair, a clean-shaven face, and steadfast blue-gray eyes. The meticulous manner of his dress had nothing to do with his meeting. A suit and tie were everyday apparel for him, even on the weekends. Only during his exercise routines did he wear causal clothing, but even then the slim muscular build that he worked so hard to maintain, lent him the distinction of one who is used to the privileges of the upper class.

"Mother Nature is never kind to the elderly, Victor." He replied while sinking into the comfort of the leather chair. "You of all people should know this. After all, there is only three months difference in our ages."

"True. True. But you needn't remind me, Art. Sadly, the only kindness most of us sexagenarians receive is from the pharmaceutical companies and our personal physicians."

Arthur chuckled low and nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid kindness and truth are all we can ever expect as we age."

The cardinal nodded as well. "I'm glad your philosophy is sound, Arthur, because it's regarding a matter of truth that I asked to see you today." He showed him the title of the file he held before he opened it to the correct page and laid it across his desk. "I received this only two days ago, and I am greatly troubled by the information it contains." He paused to look the other man square in the eye. "First of all, allow me to express my condolences. I am well aware of the nature of your relationship with Alexis McCulloch and her husband, Malachi."

A flash of pain briefly crossed Arthur's face before it vanished. "Thank you, Victor. Their deaths are a great loss to our organization, but Alexis was like a daughter to me."

"You knew her parents, I understand."

"Yes. Her mother, Marie Montgomery, was at one time a dear friend of mine, a close personal friend, actually. I met her at university during my years in the states. I was a teacher's assistant while studying for my master's degree and she was a sophomore. We dated a little more than a year." He gave an uncomfortable shrug, letting the explanation for the end of the affair linger in the air. "After we went our separate ways I stayed in touch. When Alexis's parents were killed I was in charge of the unit that hunted down and killed the demons responsible." He swallowed hard as a cold gleam sprang to his eyes. "I took great satisfaction in avenging her death."

Cardinal Rancini nodded with understanding. "You were opposed to Alexis's initiation, weren't you?"

"With my whole heart and soul." Wordsworth admitted. "I didn't want her life to be contaminated by evil anymore than it already was, but I was out voted and sadly the reasons for my opposition didn't outweigh the benefits of her membership. Alex was a top notch Guardian. Her marriage to Malachi only made her a stronger team member, and offered no interference, that is, until he died. Afterwards…." He shrugged again letting the facts in the case history speak for themselves.

Victor breathed deeply and sat back in his chair. "Art," he began softly, "there are unanswered questions regarding her death. Questions that our _'friends'_ at Angel Investigations didn't, or wouldn't answer. The Pope would like to reopen the case file."

Wordsworth leaned forward concerned and alarmed by his superior's inquiry. "Reopen the case? Why now? More than five months have passed, Victor, I don't understand."

Rancini abruptly stood and paced to the window to look out on the peaceful gardens below his third-story window. "It's the lack of evidence that has the Pope worried, and frankly I'm also concerned. Angel brought back not one shred of evidence of Alex's demise, and because she followed Malachi to an alternate universe, there's no way for the Vatican to authenticate her death."

"What the hell are you saying, Vic? Are you trying to tell me she may not be dead?"

The cardinal spun around to address his friend directly. "It's a possibility, Art. Surely the likelihood must have crossed your mind." He replied in a level tone. He strode back to his desk and sat back down. "We need proof, Arthur, either visual confirmation by one of our members, or written documentation by means of a death certificate, burial record, something. We also want the McCulloch's things retrieved and returned to this century. It's unsettling knowing that two Guardian's weapons and journals are floating through time unchecked."

Arthur nodded with sudden clarity. "And you want me to go get them, don't you?"

Cardinal Rancini leaned back into his chair, molded his hands into a steeple, and smiled. "Precisely."

* * *

**April 1885**

**Kentucky, Three years, and nine months later…**

"You know…." Doc Holliday began while keeping his eyes lowered and on the task at hand, "you never told me the story of how you were initiated into the Guardians." He was seated on a footstool in front of the small sofa in the master bedroom with his wife's foot cuddled in his lap. In his hand he held a metal nail file as he meticulously manicured Alex's toes.

Alex rested her head against the back of the sofa and sighed with contentment over the luxurious care her husband was showing to her tired, swollen feet. At nine months pregnant she was too full with child to bend over and manicure her toes, and even though Allie had offered to give her a pedicure Doc stepped in and quickly accepted the challenge. She realized that it wasn't possession that motivated her husband, but rather the lack of intimacy between them during the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Sex was out of the question so close to the baby's due date and Doc was feeling a little lonely.

Glancing at the top of John's bent head, she let loose a chuckle over his request and the memory that accompanied it. "It was Arthur who offered the invitation, of course. That's how we met."

Now that he had finished filing her toenails, he shifted her foot to his opposite hand, placed the file to one side and reached for the jar of lotion sitting on the floor. "There you are darlin, no more clicking on the floor for you."

Alex snorted loudly. "Really, John, sometimes your lack of propriety is shocking. My toenails weren't that long."

Spooning a dollop of cream with two fingers, he swabbed the lotion over her foot and sank both of his thumbs deep into the arch of her sole and began to massage the muscular pad in small tight circles. Alex let out a groan of gratitude and closed her eyes. "You don't realize how swollen and sore your feet are until someone rubs them for you." She sighed.

"Don't bother with your shoes tomorrow, Alex. If you're not going out there's no reason to make yourself uncomfortable." He worked his fingers up and down the sole of her foot before turning his attention to her toes.

"John!" Alex gasped loudly and raised her head. "No sucking, please. It's not fair teasing me like that."

He chuckled warmly and gave her a devilish grin. "Who says I'm only going to tease you."

"No sex, remember? Doctor's orders."

"You forget darlin, I lived with a very skilled prostitute for five years. I could make your toes curl and not even come close to penetrating you." Before she could offer a reply he added, "Now that I think of it, I believe I have made your toes curl, at least once or twice since our wedding."

She gave him a smug smile, "And visa versa, dearest, but not tonight, I'm pregnant." Her head fell back with exhaustion.

His hopeful expression quickly fell away to be replaced by one of disappointment. "You'll be pregnant tomorrow as well, Alexis. Dr. Sims said there could be at least two weeks until the baby comes."

She lifted her head and asked with a great show of concern. "Do you suffer greatly, John?"

"Yes!" He groused.

"As big as I am, so do I. So, I guess we're even." Back went her head to rest against the sofa again.

He leaned in a bit one of her toes in retaliation. "You're unkind tonight, Alex."

She sighed loudly. "I'm nine fucking months pregnant, of course I'm unkind."

All was quiet for a moment. Doc kept his tongue knowing how temperamental his wife was in her condition, while Alex held her breath as the baby shifted inside the womb. When Doc reached out to place a comforting hand over the movement in her belly she felt her anger evaporate. From under her lashes she considered his request. "Do you think orgasm would bring on labor?"

He shrugged while reaching for her other foot. "It's possible I suppose. How many orgasms do you want to have?"

"You know, you're more than a little twisted for even thinking of sex with a pregnant lady."

"I'd be more twisted if I was thinking of sex with someone else." He offered with a large smile.

"Hmm." She agreed. "Not only twisted but very dead. I wouldn't bother calling for Virgil, I'm grumpy enough to shoot you myself."

He growled deep in the back of his throat with irritation. "Arthur. Guardians. Invitation," he punctuated, "Best change the subject, Alexis."

"Okay. Let me see… I was eighteen and just days away from graduating high school. There was a little coffee shop in town that I loved to frequent. I had a favorite spot in the back corner and would sit there for hours, drinking coffee and reading. The owners had gotten so used to my routine that they would often treat me as family. If the café suddenly got busy I would even pitch in and help serve the customers. But on this particular day it was very quiet. I had been there for over an hour and was thinking it was time to go back to my dorm room when a middle-aged man walked up to my table and introduced himself as Arthur Wordsworth, and proceeded to tell me he was a Guardian recruiter."

She laughed a little as she reflected while meeting her husband's steady eyes. "I thought he was trying to pick me up. He sat down opposite of me and began to tell me this unbelievable story about this mystical organization, and the entire time I'm thinking grandpa is trying to score. I quickly dismissed him and asked him firmly, but politely, to leave when he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file with my last name written on it. He pushed the file across the table at me and began to tell me a story concerning my parent's death. At this point I became very angry and demanded that he leave me alone. The café owner's eldest son came over and was ready to grab the man and bodily toss him out when Wordsworth causally opened the file and pulled out a picture."

She paused to take a deep breath, and to Doc it looked like she was searching for the strength and courage to continue her story. "It was a photo of my parent's demise. The police had photographed the crime scene, and what I saw contradicted everything I've been told about their death."

"Were they killed in Maine?" Doc asked.

Alex gave a slight shake of her head. "No, in New York City. My parents enjoyed the theater and would travel to the city several times a year. The police thought my father might have been taking a short cut as they walked back to the hotel. I was led to believe the extent of the gunshot injuries didn't allow a viewing before the funeral service. I never saw the bodies.

Knowing what I know now, I can see how a crime scene such as my parent's would alert certain persons in positions of power. If a group of Guardians were not already in the area they would very shortly be dispatched.

As I gapped down at this horrific photo, Arthur Wordsworth told me they had been attacked by a group of vampires. But it wasn't just a simple feeding frenzy. They were torn to pieces, literally limb from limb. Body parts were everywhere. The photos were very gruesome and graphic. How the media was not alerted, I'll never know."

Doc brows creased with unease. "Did your uncle know about this?"

"I believe he knew the extent of the injuries. If he was aware of vampires killing my parents he hid it from me. I was simply told they had been shot and killed during a robbery. Two weeks after the funeral my aunt and uncle took me to their home in Paris." She shrugged, "You know what happened to me after that."

"What of your mother's family?"

"My mother's family was very old, Doc. She was the only surviving child and I was the only grandchild. She had an older brother, ten years her senior, who died in a boating accident before I was born. If I had gone to live with them I would have been raised by sixty-year-old grandparents. They would have been almost seventy before I graduated school. Besides, my father's brother and his wife were my godparents. Legally, I was under their care."

"What happened after you saw the photographs?" Doc asked, his voice tight with grief over Alex's misfortune. He gathered the pedicure supplies, and stood up from the stool to place the items back on Alex's dressing table.

Alex laughed softly to herself. "I was so pissed and very rude. I won't repeat what I said to Art. Needless to say, Wordsworth left immediately, but he insisted I keep the file. Before he walked out the door he gave me his business card and asked me to call him when I was ready."

She watched her husband pour two glasses of cold lemonade from a pitcher sitting on the coffee table before he returned to the sofa. Sitting along side of her he passed her one glass and gathered her legs to rest them across his lap, forcing her to keep her feet elevated. "Thank you." She sighed with gratitude and took a sip from her glass.

"You know," she began, "it's almost funny watching you drink lemonade instead of a full glass of bourbon."

He clucked a disapproving tongue at her. "Alexis, its one o'clock on a Sunday afternoon."

She snorted loudly at his church lady pretense. "That wouldn't have stopped you from getting snookered five years ago."

"I didn't know you five years ago. I'm a changed man. I only get snookered Monday through Saturday now and most definitely not before four in the afternoon."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Your father would be so proud." She teased.

"Go on with your story. Did you throw out the file?" He cut in before drinking from his glass.

She shook her head in reply and looked out the window deep in thought. "I shoved the offensive file in my book bag and walked back to school. I was still so angry and upset there was no way I was in the state of mind to read the information it contained. I guess I was in shock. All those years after being orphaned I had envisioned the robber confronting my father, the frighten face of my mother, the demand for their money and my mother's jewelry, and of course the fatal gunshots that ripped through my parent's bodies, and now I knew I had believed a lie. And the way they were killed…"

She paused and pressed the back of her hand against her lips as if the memories were making her physically sick. "What a horrifying, painful way to die. Who would ever have thought the fantasy would be more merciful than the reality." Her voice broke softly as she spoke. Quickly she sipped her drink to help clear the emotion building in her throat.

"That night I cried myself to sleep. After about four hours of rest I woke around midnight, and the first thing I thought about was the file. So, I got up and went downstairs to the kitchen to make a hot cup of tea and then I went into a study room where there were comfortable chairs for reading."

She turned to meet her husband's steady gaze. "The file contained everything about my parent's death: details of the crime scene, photos, police reports and information about the vampires who killed them and how the Guardians tracked and killed them. I was surprised to learn that Arthur Wordsworth, himself, had been in charge of the team."

She took another sip of lemonade and smirked lightly. "There was even a letter from the Pope sent to the Catholic parish in that section of New York saying a permanent team of Guardians would be assigned to that area."

"You must have thought the whole thing ridiculous." John surmised.

"Ridiculous is an understatement. I was amazed at what I had read. In the back of the file was a letter addressed to me from Wordsworth, inviting me to spend a week at a training center for newly enlisted recruits. They wanted me to see for myself what the organization was about.

I closed the file and went back to bed, but I didn't sleep. I lay there and thought about what I had read. The more I thought, the more frightened I became. The next day as I moved about town I seemed to see suspicious characters everywhere. I would look at a young man shopping in a store and think, was he a Guardian, vampire or just a man? I went to my favorite café and drank my fill of coffee and after about an hour I left. Across the street stood Wordsworth. He gave me a friendly nod, but made no move to approach me. I ignored him and walked back to school.

Two days later I graduated high school. My aunt and uncle came to help me celebrate. I don't know why, but I kept Wordsworth's visit to myself. I guess I was afraid of what my uncle would say, or perhaps what he wouldn't say. Regardless, how could I talk about something I wasn't positive was real.

We went out to dinner and talked about my plans for the future, about college and my trip back to the states. It was dark when we left the restaurant and as we rode back to my dorm I was still thinking about the file and what Wordsworth had told me. I was just mindlessly staring out the window as we traveled when I noticed two men walking on the sidewalk. One man was talking to the other and when he turned his head to look as our car passed by I could see his eyes glowed silver."

Doc hissed sharply through his teeth. Instinctively he passed a soothing hand over her legs.

Alex reached out to capture his hand, slipping her fingers around his. "At that moment I was convinced that everything Arthur had told me was true.

The next day I made the call that changed my life. Wordsworth arranged for my transportation and I spent a week in the training facility in Rome. Living there were thirty-two men and women learning to fight, learning to handle weapons, learning to withstand the pain from multiple blows to the face and body, and learning to survive in a battle that could result in their death or worse if they didn't fight with every ounce of determination. And that's where I met Malachi." Briefly she glanced down at the silver Celtic bracelet on her wrist before looking back at Doc.

"Wordsworth gave me the complete tour and fully informed me of the purpose of the Guardians. I didn't leave that fort until eighteen months later. When I next walked back through those iron gates I was a full-fledge Guardian and an entirely different person."

"What about school and your aunt and uncle? How did you hide what you were doing?"

"The Guardian organization takes care of everything, John. Right down to the smallest detail. As far as my family was concerned, I was enrolled in the University of Maine and even attended classes."

She raised one delicate eyebrow, "Now, it may not have been me sitting in a chair hearing a lecture, but I was certainly the one who took the exams and passed with high marks. I got my bachelors degree in three years and continued my schooling to get my masters. I graduated at the top ten percent of my class. My education is very real. Make no mistake about that, John." She tipped on arched brow in his direction making sure there was no confusion about that topic.

"Never, darlin." He grinned through a chuckle. "I wouldn't think of questioning your education. Not unless I want my dick handed to me on a silver platter."

"Don't be crude." She scolded, but smiled at the same time. "I have better uses for your manhood than to decorate my good tableware." Her hand slipped free from his grasp, caressing up his arm, and across his shoulder to fondle the soft skin hidden under his collar.

"Indeed." Doc crooned while assessing his wife's shifting mood. "Are you suggesting that fortune may favor the sexually deprived creature that is your husband?" He quickly set his glass down next to the lemonade pitcher before slipping his hand under her dress.

She gave him a sultry smile, enjoying the way his touch made her body burn. "Care to place a bet on whether orgasm can induce labor?"

Doc let his hand travel further up her leg to caress the soft skin on her inner thigh. "You want to bet against me?" He marveled. "You really are feeling adventurous today, Alexis." He laughed when she gave him a cocky shrug. "Very well, since our son is playing with Louisa's daughter this afternoon and we have the house to ourselves…."

He reached back, grabbed her ankle and bent her knee, angling her leg away from her body. The hand that had been teasing her thigh slipped upward to explore the uncovered golden down between her legs. The fact that she wore no undergarments did not surprise him, knowing that her condition was too uncomfortable to tolerate panties. "The specifications are as follows: I will make a great effort to set things in motion, so to speak… You have seventy-two hours, Mrs. Holliday, to go into labor. If at the end of those seventy-two hours you still are _indisposed_, than I will buy you that string of pearls you had been admiring."

Alex's sudden gasp had nothing to do with what her husband was doing under her dress. The pearls had been a secret wish and something she had been coveting for more than six months. But because of the expense of preparing for the new baby and John's newly reserved social position as a respectable dentist, she was determined not to appear ostentatious to the local town folk.

"How…" She started to ask but John quickly shushed her with a smug look.

"I have my ways." He grinned. "Now, if I should be successful," he paused while rolling his thumb over the apex of her sex pulling a startled moan from her body, "then you will go without underpants for the next… oh, shall we say, three months."

Alex rolled her eyes and smirked at his offer. "You pervert."

His smile never faltered. "Yes, I am, but a practical one as well. I want to be able to flip you over a piece of furniture at a moment's notice. Do you accept?"

Alex made a great show as she pretended to think over his proposal before she finally smiled and offered her hand to seal the deal. "It's a bet."

Doc didn't shake her hand, he bent down instead, and latched onto her hand with his lips, drawling her little finger into his mouth to suck.

Alex would have laughed at this if his hand between her legs hadn't started to move in the most interesting way making her realized that her husband did indeed know a courtesan's trade secret or two.

* * *

**Earlier that week…. **

Tombstone, Arizona was hot, dusty and a hub of activity. Arthur Wordsworth stepped off the stagecoach and went directly to the Grande Hotel.

For some unknown reason the spell had placed him several miles north of Tombstone. It had taken him half a day to walk to the nearest town and another half-day to travel to Tombstone by stage.

Dressed in period clothing he blended perfectly, disguised as a wealthy businessman. He had come well prepared to carry out his mission without further delay. Everything he needed, from clothing, weapons and local maps, to several thousand dollars in antique gold coins were stowed safely in the large leather bag he carried.

"A room, if you please." He requested while setting his luggage by the counter.

"For just yourself, mister?" The man behind the counter asked.

"As you see. I'd like a room facing the main road if it is available."

"Yes, sir. Room 27." He handed Arthur a key, and slid the registry within his reach. "If you would sign yourself in, please, and I'll get a bellhop to take you to your room."

Arthur filled in the first empty line with the quill and ink set on the counter. He used his real name, knowing there was no reason to hide his identity. Setting the quill back into the ink fountain he casually thumbed through the filled in pages and noticed the book's entries started in January. The date on the first page showed the year to be 1885. Quietly, he suppressed a surge of anger. _How_, he wondered, _did I skip over more than three years? With the battle long over, reconstructing events will be difficult. How, then, am I to find two missing journals and weapons? _

The spell he had used had been given to the Guardians by Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, one of Angel's team members and also an ex-watcher, which was why the spell was thought to be trustworthy. Could it be they had been mislead?

The bellhop appeared out of nowhere and reached for his bag. "Before I go to my room, I'd like to see a copy of today's paper."

"Yes, sir." The bellhop set down the bag and with a quick stride went behind the counter to retrieve a paper. "Today's edition, sir." He handed the paper to Arthur before reaching for the bag again.

The room was on the second floor and had an excellent view of the street. "It can be noisy on this side of the building, sir. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a quieter room?" The bellhop offered.

"No. This is perfect. I will enjoy observing all the activity." He strode to the window and parted the curtains to look out and felt a thrill run through him as he watched nineteenth century western civilization scurry about below.

"Tell me young man, are you familiar with Wyatt Earp and his family?" He asked without turning around.

"Of course. Everyone knows the Earps and Dr. Holliday, too."

The name caused Arthur to turn sharply around. "Doc Holliday?"

"Well… no one calls him that anymore. Just Dr. Holliday. He's a dentist you know."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Why don't they call him Doc Holliday anymore?"

The boy seemed to hesitate, sensing a hidden reason for Arthur's curiosity.

Arthur stepped forward while reaching into his pocket for a large tip. He placed the five-dollar gold coin in the boy's hand and smile. "I'm an old friend of Doc's. It's been awhile since I last saw him. I hadn't realized he had cast aside his nickname."

The boy gawked only briefly at the large sum of money before offering an answer. "Oh… well everyone calls him doctor now. He don't gamble like he used to after striking it rich and all. When you're rich mister, people treat you with respect." He quickly pocketed the coin, tipped his hat and turned to leave before any more questions could be posed.

"One moment," Arthur called, while suppressing a chuckle at the bellhop's discomfort. Obviously, Dr. Holliday had gone from a trouble-making gambler to a man of some consequence. "I would like to pay my respects while in town. Can you tell me where to find Mr. Earp and Dr. Holliday?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know, sir. They don't live here abouts. Folks say they moved east, but I don't know where."

Arthur nodded, frustrated at his lack of luck and already planning his next move.

"But… you could ask at the mine. The manager, Mr. Webb, would be able to give you an address. The mine is located north of town, about two miles away. I can have the livery stable send over a wagon for you to use, if you like."

"That would be very kind of you, young man." Arthur crooned. He reached into his pocket again and placed several coins into the boy's hand. "I'd like to inquire at the mining office today, if at all possible. I think that should cover the expense to rent a wagon. The rest is for your trouble."

Glancing down at his palm the bellhop sang, "Thank you, sir! I'll go to the stable straight away!"

After the door closed behind the excited bellhop, Arthur returned to the window. He might have looked like a man observing the activity below, but in reality he was deep in thought. Events were proving to be more curious than he had first imagined. This reality was vastly different than his version of western history. Not only was Doc Holliday respected, but also wealthy and no longer living in Arizona. He would have to do some investigation first, which would greatly slow down his mission, but before he inquired at the mine there was one stop he wanted to make first.

The Epitaph was busy preparing the next day's edition when Arthur eased through the front door. Behind a small desk an attractive woman was proofreading a news article. When Arthur approached she looked up and greeted him with a smile.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, please. I was hoping you archived old editions of your paper. I'm looking for a lost family member who may or may not have stayed here in town."

"Why, yes we do." Her smile suddenly grew, taking on a seductive air. "What year did you wish to see?"

"1881."

"The papers are kept in the back room." She added while looking over Arthur's fine clothing with an approving eye. "I'm afraid it's not the nicest or cleanest place for reading."

"That's not a concern." Arthur replied. "Perhaps I could hang my jacket on the coat rack over there." He nodded across the room where a line of wooden pegs graced one wall.

The woman nodded and led the way. "The archive room is over there." She gestured to the door behind her. "The papers are filed in drawers labeled by year. Let me know if you need anything."

Arthur nodded his thanks while removing his jacket. The seductive looks he received from the woman told him his thin muscular build was pleasing. If his search in the newspapers proved to be fruitless he would make use of this woman's sexual interest by bleeding her for information over a quiet romantic dinner for two. Perhaps her position with the paper would give him more background than what the bellhop was able to tell him. "You've been very kind, Mrs…."

"Miss," She quickly corrected. "Abigail Martin."

"Much appreciated, Ms. Martin." He smiled brightly and as an afterthought gave her a flirtatious wink before he entered the archive room.

The room was just as dusty as Ms. Martin had mentioned, but Arthur set directly to work pulling open the drawer marked "1881". Skirting over the beginning of the year he went directly to September and began to scan the editions. The first thing he noticed was the increased death rate in the town. There was even mention of how hard the undertaker was working to keep up with the corpses. Several of the articles on crimes committed reeked of vampire activity, but what captured his attention were the articles on 'the figure in black' that made several rescues.

"Oh, Alexis, my girl," he murmured to under his breath, "you were either extremely careless or desperate."

One paper made him nod with approval when he read about the smallpox outbreak. "Smart. Good girl." He praised. Then he came to the one article that concluded Alex's struggle. "The battle." He breathed. Malachi had produced an army and this small insignificant paragraph about a street fight with some drunken cowboys was the resulting battle. His heart beat painfully in his chest and tears suddenly filled his eyes as he envisioned her struggles and final confrontation with her demonic husband. This is when Alex was killed. Maybe… or maybe not. He would soon find out. He looked at the date and made a mental notation.

Curious as to how things might have been covered up he continued to read news editions into October. He found no mention of Alex's death or funeral, but this wasn't really a concern. If she had stayed undercover, then her body would have been quietly buried without the usual funeral services. Only the local Catholic Priest would be able to show him a grave, if one did exist.

He reached for the next paper and clearly saw on the second page the answer to the mystery and the reason why his life was going to be hell for the next several weeks, perhaps even longer.

**October 12, 1881 Tombstone Epitaph**

**Yesterday, in a private ceremony performed by Father Martin, Dr. John H. Holliday, who by some is known as Doc Holliday, was united in marriage with Alexis Montgomery McCulloch. **

**The happy couple met by chance several weeks ago when Mrs. Holliday, who had been widowed more than a year before, came to town to discreetly settle one last detail of her late husband's estate. The detail, we have learned, turned out to be property rich with a large vein of silver, yet undiscovered just northwest of the Clanton ranch. **

**It seems Dr. Holliday is as lucky in love as he was in his gambling endeavors. The fortunate doctor of dentistry will have all money he needs to supply his patients with gold teeth for the mine of silver is yet undetermined in value, but so far exceeds any previous claims registered in the state. **

**Dr. and Mrs. Holliday will settle their business affairs before taking an extended honeymoon in Europe. Accompanying the happy couple are their new business partners Virgil, Wyatt and Morgan Earp along with their spouses. **

**We wish the group and their new enterprise much success. **

A part of him wanted to shout for joy and relief. Until that moment he hadn't fully realized the extent of his grief over a brave young woman who could have been his daughter, should have been his daughter, if his romance with her mother hadn't ended so badly many, many years ago. But at the same time he was furious, hurt, angry and damn put out. There were so many other things that required his attention back home, yet here he was, dressed in a old fashioned suit, with a ridiculous derby hat, and uncomfortable shoes looking for a girl who was suppose to be dead, but was instead married to a rich famous dentist, and living the high life back east.

"Alexis, you have a lot of explaining to do." He carefully folded the paper with the marriage notice until it was small enough to fit unnoticed in his pocket, then he placed the remaining papers back into the drawer just as he found them.

Bowing gracefully out of the newspaper office, he went straight to the livery stable to retrieve his rented wagon. His next stop would be the mining office. It shouldn't be too much trouble acquiring an address to Alexis' new home. The cover story he intended to use was a distant uncle newly arrived from England looking for his niece. The fact that he and Alex both spoke with an English accent would be the perfect prop he needed for his disguise.

* * *

Doc Holliday's head tilted back into the pillow, his neck arched and his hands twisting into the sheets of his bed. Earlier that day, he had asked for some intimate time with his wife, and now she was giving more than he ever imagined.

"Dear God!" He moaned when Alex increased the pull of her mouth while pressing and probing in all the right places. The orgasm that tore through his body left him a senseless, vibrating blob of flesh, panting hard as if he had run a five-mile race.

Alex scooted over to cuddle against her husband. As big as her stomach was it was hard getting close enough to embrace, and most certainly not very comfortable. But she somehow managed the task by supporting her belly with one pillow and placing another one behind her back. In this position she was neither lying on her side nor was she laying flat on her back. It was a kind of half-and-half twist that allowed her to face John and still be semi comfortable. Folding her one arm under her head she playfully rested the other across her husband's chest. "You were very vocal, John. I don't know what I'll say to the servants tomorrow."

"Tell them it was you and that you had a contraction." He wheezed.

"Hardly." She snorted. "I don't think you will win our bet, dearest. Although your efforts were very creative, well timed and produced some absolutely fabulous results."

"Some?" He inquired with one raise brow, his hand braced over his chest in an effort to slow his racing heart. "I counted three. Two, I might add, were in succession."

"Pregnant women are very sensitive and easy to orgasm."

He groaned. "Now you tell me. I should know better than to wager against you."

"You didn't ask for particulars and I'm not inclined to reveal hidden information. If you want the ins and outs of pregnancy go see Dr. Sims. He's a fountain of information."

"I still have two more days. I'm not done with you yet, Mrs. Holliday. Tomorrow I intend to bring home a secret weapon from my office. Then we will see how our bet fares."

Alex raised herself up on one elbow and looked down at her husband. "What kind of secret weapon?"

Doc grinned like the devil and said nothing.

She smacked his arm. "Tell me!"

He laughed out loud and sat up to kiss her. "Nope."

Alex huffed loudly and flopped back down on the bed. "Oh!" She moaned with frustration.

Still grinning, he leaned down to kiss her forehead and trail his lips across her cheek before claiming her mouth. "I love you dearly, Alexis Marie Holliday."

"Even when I'm this fat and grumpy?"

"Especially when you're this fat and grumpy." He echoed with a grin before adding, "You are my world and I would be lost without you."

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears as she reached up to caress his face. "You're very good to me, John, so patient, kind and understanding. I don't deserve you."

"True." He agreed; his eyes bright with hidden laughter. "But, after you have regained your physique and pleasant temperament I shall expect compensation for all my hardship."

Instead of the smart comeback he was striding for, Alex crumbled and burst into tears.

"What's this… tears after an evening of romance?" He whispered while leaning down to kiss her tenderly. "My pregnant wife suffers so."

"I'm sorry. I really do appreciate all that you do for me. It's just that… I feel miserable, uncomfortable, hot and fat." She let John wipe at her tears.

"You're beautiful, alluring, tantalizing, and I think about you night and day." Doc countered as he dried her eyes with the corner of the bed sheet, "It may sound strange to you but your pregnancy is a very sexual experience for me. I walk around half the day erect and aching for you."

She furrowed her brows sharply. "I think you're breathing in too much ether at work, John. You better open the window more the next time you use it."

Her sarcastic comment made little impression. "When you were pregnant with Little John I was too preoccupied with school. I didn't spend enough time with you to notice how sexy you are this way. What a fool I am sometimes, and what opportunities I missed seducing you. I intend to make up for lost time with this baby." His hand glided sensually over her bare stomach, touching every inch before bending to place several kisses against her skin.

Just then the baby kicked and the movement visibly rippled across Alex's abdomen. Doc gasped softly, his face bright with happiness as he watched.

"The baby thinks you're breathing in too much ether as well." Alex joked. "Maybe we should have a ceiling fan installed in your office as a precaution."

Doc ignored her remarks and pressed his ear against her stomach. "I can hear him moving around, turning."

"Yes, _she_ is very active tonight. Maybe this means it's almost time."

He leaned back away from her stomach and kissed her softly on the mouth. "I think I'll ask Dr. Sims to look in on you tomorrow while I'm at work, just as a precaution."

"You worry too much, John."

"I love you too much to let anything happen to you. I want you to take it easy until you deliver. No cooking, no cleaning, and particularly no wandering around the stables. If one of those studs gets irritable and kicks you…."

She placed a calming hand on his cheek. "I'll stay inside and sew. I promise."

"Good girl. I'll ask the doctor to stop in around lunchtime. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I can slip home between patients to be here for your exam."

"But… you're so busy at work… I don't want to take you away from your practice."

"Fuck the practice. Fuck the patients. My wife is pregnant and needs me at home."

Alex smirked and let loose a soft laugh. "Morgan is going to call you a wuss and make derogatory comments about your masculinity."

"Morgan is going to get more than he bargained for if he's not careful."

Alex giggled in agreement before yawning loudly.

"Tired?"

"Yes. It seems all I do is sleep lately, and go to the bathroom. Will you help me up, John I need to use the facilities before I pee the bed."

He smiled down at her and reached behind her back to help her sit up and then rise from the bed. "Alexis, if you wet the bed I'll make you sleep on the floor."

"Knock it off, John, and help me to the bathroom." She grumbled, holding firmly to his arm.

* * *

In her sitting room Alex sat on a cushioned chair, feet horizontal to the floor and resting on a matching ottoman. In her lap was a forgotten ball of yarn attached to her knitting needles. The small-yellow sweater she was making for her new baby was almost complete. If she made an effort the task could be finished today, but she felt distracted by the uncomfortable aches and pains in her body.

She reached back and rubbed her lower spine again, hoping to ease the sharp pain she'd been feeling in her hips and lower back all morning. She was giving serious thought to going back to bed to stretch out for a while when Sun Li stepped into the room with a fresh vase of flowers in her hands.

"Daffodils. Aren't they the most beautiful spring flower? I thought they might brighten your day just a little bit." She set the flowers down on a small circular table near the window.

"Thank you, Sun. They're so cheerful."

Sun paused to study her mistress with a practiced eye. "You're uncomfortable, aren't you?"

Alex winched and nodded. "Just a little."

Sun stepped forward, grabbed a small pillow from another chair and slipped it behind Alex's back. "Better?"

"Yes," she sighed, "much better."

The petite oriental beauty and her parents had been a special addition to Alex's new world. Having saved her father, Shen Li from a vampire attack in Tombstone. The Li's quickly became a necessary ally during her battle with the evil in town. After her wedding to Doc she made frequent trips with Father Martin into the Chinese community to offer assistance and financial help to the poor and sick. When it became time to leave Tombstone and travel East, Mr. Li meekly asked to be allowed to come with them. It occurred to Alex that the Li family had seen enough of Tombstone and needed a fresh start.

At first Doc and the Earps didn't understand her compassion toward the Chinese family, but after carefully explaining her side of the story she was able to talk her friends into letting the Li's become a part of their new life.

"They want to work for us." Alex had explained. "Sun and her mother are eager to help with the housework and Shen, Sun's father, has experience with horses. In China he worked in the emperor's stables. We're going to need the help and since they already know my secret there's no reason to hide things from them. I think it's a good idea."

Three years later and the Li's were indispensable part of their family.

Along with the Li's domestic help, Doc acquired Sally to lend a hand. She was a great help in the kitchen and also with Little John's care. He had wanted to get her more assistance with the housekeeping but Alex admittedly refused. She felt there were enough people ambling about her house. She wanted a home, not a hotel with servants waiting on her all day.

Sun's continuous fussing over her comfort brought Alex's attention back to the present. "Really, I'm fine, Sun." She grumbled. "But I think the table will need some care if we don't put a doily underneath that vase. It might leave a mark."

Sun smiled and gave her a quick nod. "Yes, Miss. Alex. I'll be right back," she called as she passed out of the sitting room and down the hall.

Alex shifted in her chair again. The pain in her lower back spiked causing her to suck in her breath sharply. "Damn inconvenient way to spend an afternoon." She mumbled to herself. "I wish…" She sucked in her breath again when a stronger sharper pain shot from her back through her abdomen. "Oh, bloody hell." She hissed as realization dawned on her. "It looks like I'm not going to get those pearls after all."

She was just thinking of calling for Sun when the front doorbell sounded. Alex's sour expression brightened and she quickly shifted her weight to rise from the chair. "Dr. Sims, you have excellent timing." She mumbled to herself.

Struggling to stand and gain her balance, Alex pushed off of the chair but kept her hand braced on the arm for support. Another pain hit her but not as sharp as the previous one. "Please God, let me get upstairs before the contractions get worse." She prayed while shuffling to the front door.

The doorbell rang again and from the back of the house, Alex heard Sun call out. "I've got it Sun." She answered. "I'm sure it's Dr. Sims." Concentrating on making it to the front door without tipping over, Alex reached out and turned the doorknob without looking up. A fresh spring breeze greeted her, softly blowing her loose hair behind her shoulders, and following that was a voice she thought she'd never ever hear again.

"Alexis?"

Alex's head jerked up, her eyes wide with shock, and the first bolt of fear. The air in her lungs suddenly escaped in a soft audible cry of surprise. Instinctively, her hand grasped the doorframe for support when the strength in her legs threatened to abandon her.

"Arthur!" She gasped and tried to take a step backward, her initial reaction to turn and run.

Arthur noticed two things at once. The first was Alexis alive and well, but very pregnant; the second was the fear in her eyes telling him she was preparing to flee. He only wanted to hold her still, to talk to her, when he reached for her arm braced against the doorway, but Alex had already started to pull away.

"No!" She gasped, shaking her head back and forth.

"Alex…" He called again, his fingers wrapping loosely around her wrist.

"OH, NO!" She cried louder this time, pulling against his hold, throwing her weight backward, turning to take flight.

"Wait!" Arthur cried.

In some vague way, Alex was aware of Sun running down the hall, her mother and father following close behind her. But the overwhelming panic she was feeling left her no choice, she had to run, run and get free before this man could take her away from everything she held dear, everything she loved. "No, no, no, no." She screamed again and again, wrenching her wrist free from Arthur's grasp, completing the turn.

Her wrist slipped out of his hand with a jerk, her body suddenly off balance, tipped over, falling out of control. Unable to halt her forward motion, Alex hit the floor with a loud thud, landing hard on her left hip and arm. A sharp cry of pain escaped before she recovered and started to crawl forward, sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh, no! Please, no."

Sun quickly reached her side and held her, glaring with fury at the intruder standing in the hallway. Mr. and Mrs. Li standing behind their daughter began to scream at Arthur in Chinese.

Over and over Alex continued to cry out, tears rolling down her face. Her thoughts of flight had vanished as the pains in her stomach rippled through her in waves. "My baby, my baby." She wept withering in pain in Sun's arms.

"Get out! Get away from her!" Mrs. Li ordered in English, stepping around her daughter and husband she shoved bodily against the man in an attempt to push him out the door.

Arthur held up his hands offering no resistance to her attack but refusing to leave just the same. "It was an accident. Please," he gestured, "let me help."

"You leave. You get out!" Mrs. Li continued. Fruitlessly, she pushed against Arthur again but was still unable to move him. Glaring angrily, she turned and spoke to her husband in Chinese. Mr. Li nodded once before turning to run out the back door.

"Oh, God, what am I going to do?" Alex wailed, turned her face toward Sun's protective arms and sobbed. "What will I do?"

* * *

Dr. J. H. Holliday placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of his elderly patient. "Really, Mrs. Harmon, you can relax and open your eyes. I promise I won't hurt you. I'll be as gentle as a schoolboy's first kiss." He teased.

The woman barely chuckled at his joke and adamantly shook her head. "Just tap me on the shoulder when you're done, Doctor. The less I see the better off I'll be."

Doc sighed lightly and smiled. "As you wish, Mrs. Harmon. I'm almost done." He leaned in to continue to file into shape the new gold tooth he had just installed.

A loud bang from the outside door startled him. Doc turned and looked at the closed door of his exam room. An excited cry in Chinese from his waiting room turned his blood cold and the file in his hand dropped to the floor.

He mumbled an apology to his patient and started for the door when there was another call in Chinese. Doc jerked the inner door open and Mr. Li rushed forward gesturing and babbling loudly in his native language.

Doc felt his heart rate double when he noticed Shen's distressed expression, but he was only getting bits and pieces of what the man was crying about. "In English please Mr. Li." He asked in a voice that sounded too calm when compared to the rapid beating of his heart.

"A man come," he blurted. "Miss Alex fall, hurt bad. You come pretty quick. Please. Please."

"What?!" Doc gasped, feeling the strength in his legs give way. Reeling, he stumbled back a step.

"A strange man come to house." Mr. Li repeated again. "He frighten Miss Alex. She cry. Please, you come home now! NOW!" To emphasize his message he tugged sharply on Doc's arm dragging him forcibly to the door.

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Harmon cried her eyes wide open now and sitting forward in the dental chair.

Doc gave a passing glance at his patient while rushing to his desk. "I am afraid I have a family emergency, Mrs. Harmon. Check back with me at a later date to reschedule." He yanked open a side drawer and pulled out his Colt 45 pistol, checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded before grabbing the extra box of ammunition.

On his way out the door he snatched is jacket off the coat rack and heard Mrs. Harmon call out. "I pray Mrs. Holliday is all right."

_So do I,_ Doc thought while climbing into his one horse carriage, and snapping the animal into a fast run. As he raced closely behind Mr. Li's horse all manner of terrifying thoughts and scenarios whirled around in his head. His foremost concern was for the health of his wife and baby. Alex fell. How badly was she hurt? Where the hell was Dr. Sims?

Following those thoughts was fear. Who had come to his house that could turn is steadfast wife with nerves of steel into a blubbering crying woman?

Chaos met him when he stormed through the open front door. From the hallway he could hear Alexis crying and the sound set a bolt of terror and anger through his body. Never had he heard her sob like this. This was not the strong Guardian he had married; this was the wailing of a terrified woman unable to protect herself.

He rushed into her sitting room, gun drawn searching the room for the cause of his wife's distress. Doc found the intruder, standing in the corner, twitching nervously with obvious unease. At first glance the man's normal appearance confused him. He was tall, well dressed and displayed not an ounce of menace, but instead seemed almost as distraught as Alexis. He held no weapon but was nervously holding his hat between his hands, bending and twisting it into a mangled piece of felt. At his feet sat a black leather suitcase. If the case contained any weapons, then the stranger had refrained from using them.

Alex was lying on the sofa, stretched out on her right side, pillows propped under her head and stomach. Sun and her mother formed a protective barrier between their mistress and the intruder.

Keeping his back toward the wall Doc leveled his gun directly at the stranger as he rushed to Alex's side.

When Alex saw him she immediately tried to sit up. "John! Oh, John, don't let him take me away." She cried, tears streaming down her face.

He squatted down to his knees, reaching to hold her still while passing a soothing hand over her face brushing the sweaty hair back from her forehead. "Shhh," he sang, "I'm here now. Lie still. No one is going to hurt you or the baby. You're safe." He leaned down and kissed her wet face briefly.

Alex clung to his body, holding onto his shoulders with a powerful grip. "They found me…" she hiccupped, and then winched in pain before she could continue. "He'll take me away, John."

Doc gently caressed her face with his free hand all the while keeping the stranger within his sight. Quickly he looked over Alex's physical condition and noticed for the first time the swelling in her left wrist and elbow and then he gasp loudly when he saw the growing wet stain on her dress and on the cushions under her hip. "Alexis…" he placed a protective hand across her stomach. "Are you hurt bad?"

"I fell." She whimpered. "My water broke." Her grip on his shoulder tightened. "The baby, John. I can't feel the baby anymore." Her whole body shuttered uncontrollably when another bolt of pain hit her. "It hurts… Jesus, it hurts."

Doc turned to find Mr. Li and noticed for the first time that the oriental man wasn't in the room. "Damn it," he hissed under his breath. He looked at Sun and shouted, "Dr. Sims should be on his way here. Go out to the road and find him, make him hurry. Do you understand?"

She nodded once and ran for the door.

"Try to relax," Doc gently told Alexis. "The doctor will be here any minute."

"Get her something cold to drink." He snapped to Mrs. Li and then he turned to confront the mysterious man standing in the corner.

Standing slowly, he glared at the stranger, "And you…. Who the fuck are you!" He demanded in a low cool voice that reeked of danger and immediate death if cooperation wasn't quickly received.

Arthur had been waiting helplessly and quietly to one side, not wanting to upset Alex or her protective friends anymore than possible, but it now appeared he needed to take some form of control or this man, this ex-desperado, was going to kill him here and now. He stepped forward holding out his hands, palms up, "I didn't mean to upset anyone…"

Doc thumbed back the hammer on the gun, "Stay where you are… if you want to live that is." The side of his mouth curled up in a small grin. "But if you're a gambling man, then by all means come closer. I'll gladly shoot you now, without any explanation. Frankly, I don't really give a fuck who you are, but obviously you are familiar with my wife and it is for her benefit that I restrain myself."

Arthur sighed, dropped his hands and stood very still. "It was an accident. I didn't mean for her to get hurt."

"You're English." Doc observed.

Arthur nodded. "I'm Arthur Wordsworth, Guardian and recruiter for the organization. I am also a friend of Alex. I'm sorry if my sudden arrival cause some alarm. I…"

The familiar name vibrated through Doc's body raising the hair along the back of his neck. "Alarm?" He mocked with raised brows. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but my wife is pregnant! You scared her so badly she fell! Mister, you'd better start praying that Alex and baby are going to be fine, because if anything should happen to either one of them I'm going to nail your balls to a board and then I'm going to shoot you. I don't give a shit who you are or how trained you might be."

Arthur sighed again. "I'm sorry… really I am, Alexis. I had no idea. How could I?"

From the sofa Alex sniffed loudly through her tears. "I'm not going back with you Arthur, and you can't make me go." She replied firmly.

"Yes," he surrendered, "I can see that now."

A sudden stir from the hallway caught Doc's attention. Half a second later, Virgil, Wyatt and Morgan came barreling into the room. Each man was armed, Virgil with a rifle cocked and held at his shoulder. They moved to flank both sides of the sofa, when Morgan spied the cause of Alex's hysterics he suddenly stepped forward and landed a solid punch to Arthur's jaw. The movement was so quick Doc never saw the blow until it was too late.

Arthur fell back against the wall with enough force to knock a painting free sending it sliding to the floor. "Sit!" Morgan yelled, pointing one finger to emphasize his demand. "On the floor, NOW. Don't even think of moving a fucking muscle. " He then swooped down and picked up the black leather bag, moving it beyond Arthur's reach.

Arthur slowly eased down onto the floor, growing increasingly alarmed by the new show of force.

"Who is he, Doc?" Wyatt asked.

Now that the Earps were here to protect Alex, Doc set his pistol down and turned his full attention back to his wife. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket he began to dry Alex's tears. "He's Arthur Wordsworth, a Guardian from the future," he replied without looking away from her face, "and he says he's here to take Alex away."

"Over my dead body." Virgil growled in unison with his two brothers.

Mrs. Li finally appeared with a large glass of lemonade. Doc accepted the drink and gently held it for Alex to sip. "Where is Allie?" He asked Virgil. "I need her here." He looked on helpless when another sharp pain coursed through Alex.

"The women are coming, Doc." Wyatt answered. "They don't run as fast as we do. Is she in labor?"

"Yes. She also fell when this asshole arrived at our front door and frightened her."

"Fell?" Morgan echoed, eyes wide with concern. "Alex are you…. Is the baby okay?"

"I… I'm not sure. I can't feel anything but pain at the moment."

"Concentrate," Morgan coached, while scooting down next to Doc. "forget about what's happening around you and look inward. Think about the baby and tell me what you see."

Alex took a deep breath to calm her emotions and closed her eyes. Her brows furrowed as she tried to focus. "I see… a heartbeat, breathing. The baby is alive!" She opened her eyes. "He's just stunned from the fall and my emotions, but I think he's all right."

Relieved as much as Alex was, Doc leaned in to kiss her.

"Good." Morgan breathed.

"You didn't happen to see Dr. Sims on your way here did you? I would send Mr. Li to go look but he seems to have disappeared."

"Mr. Li came to get us and told us as best as he could what happened, and then he took off down the road in search of the doctor." Virgil told Doc.

Doc breathed a sigh of relief. "Remind me later, Alexis, to give the Li family a very large raise." He watched as Alex jerked her head to one side and bit back another cry of pain. "The contractions are closer together." Doc noticed. "Where the fuck is that doctor?"

"I'm right here, Dr. Holliday." Sims called while storming through the door with Allie, Josie, Louisa, Mr. Li, and his daughter on his heels.

He passed a quick glance at Arthur sitting on the floor and the foreboding stature of Virgil with his shotgun in hands before setting his medical bag down on the floor by the sofa. "What happened?" He asked while gently feeling the hard surface of Alex's belly.

"She fell, on her left side I think."

"Ohhhh!" Alex cried out through another contraction.

"How long have you been in labor, Alexis?" Dr. Sims inquired as he continued to probe Alex's stomach.

"Not more than an hour…." Doc replied.

"No," Alex corrected, "since this morning. I believe it started after breakfast."

"And you didn't tell me?" Doc snapped.

"I didn't know it was labor, damn it." Alex retorted. "I thought it was just my usual pain in the back pregnancy discomfort."

Dr. Sims shook his head and reached for his stethoscope. Unfastening just a few buttons on Alex's dress he slipped the instrument through the material to listen to her stomach. After a moment he nodded with approval. "The baby's heartbeat sounds good, strong, but let's not push things. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I think I bruised my left arm."

Reaching to examine the limb Dr. Sims asked, "Does this hurt?"

Surprisingly, she chuckled. "Not as bad as my contractions."

Satisfied that her arm wasn't broken he looked her square in the eye. "Do you think you can make it up the stairs? You'll be more comfortable in your room and I can't imagine you'd want to have this baby on your sofa."

"Louisa, Josie and I will go get your bed ready." Allie suggested and hurried up the steps with the other woman right behind her.

Doc looked at the doctor with confusion. "What's to ready? The bed is freshly made daily."

"Birthing can be messy, Dr. Holliday. The women will make sure your mattress is protected with extra bedding." He turned back to Alex and eased one arm behind her shoulders. "Come Alexis, your husband and I will help you up the steps. Sit up slowly. There you go." He coached when she sat on the edge of the cushion.

Alex shuddered with another contraction, her back arched sharply. The hand she held on Doc's arm gripped hard enough to leave marks on his skin. "Oh, God!" She screamed. "I don't remember it hurting his badly the first time."

The men waited until the spasm passed. "Every birth is different." Sims explained. "Can you stand now?"

Alex nodded and both men slipped their hands under her arms and pulled her slowly to her feet. When she stood a slow stream of watery blood slid down her legs and pooled at her feet. "Blood," she gasped, "I'm bleeding."

"And that's normal, too. Come. Let's not delay." Dr. Sims told her while easing her across the floor.

Slowly John and Dr. Sims helped Alex up the stairs. At one point, halfway up, she had another contraction and both men braced her weight in their arms until the moment passed and she could continue.

"I've never been so happy to see my bed." She groaned as she eased down onto the mattress.

"Never?" Doc teased. "And to think I was flattering myself all these years." His effort at humor earned him a small chuckle from his wife.

Louisa and Josie were ready with fresh sheets, towels and hot water while Allie quickly stepped forward to help Alex undress and slip into a clean shift. "Get out." She firmly told Doc. "I'll call you if you're needed."

Doc narrowed his eyes at her. "I'll leave, but only because I wish to speak to our guest." He turned to his wife and leaned in to kiss her passionately. "I'll return shortly, Alex. Don't worry about anything; Wyatt and his brother's will be downstairs keeping your _friend_, Arthur, company.

Before he could pull away she grabbed his sleeve, her eyes wide with excitement but also with apprehension. "Please don't be long. I… I want you here. I need you here with me."

Alex's mixture of vulnerability, and happiness over the birth only increased his sense of uneasiness. He felt his heart constrict with love as he leaned down once again to meet her lips. "I love you, Alex, and everything is going to be just fine. I'll go check on Little John and be back directly." His hands passed protectively over her face and hair before sliding down to settle on her stomach. "You concentrate on the baby and try not to worry."

He turned away to pull Sims to one side far enough away from the bed so Alex wouldn't be able to overhear. "Will she be all right, Doctor?"

The doctor's brow furrowed slightly. "I can't be completely sure until I examine her. But from what I've seen so far I don't think she or the baby is in any danger. Still, I'll feel better once the delivery is over."

Doc nodded and glanced once more toward the bed. "I love her with every breath in my body. Do you understand what I'm saying, Dr. Sims?"

"No, not quite…"

"If by chance there is a… complication, Alexis is my first priority. Do I make myself clear?"

Sims nodded and patted the other man on the shoulder. "I understand completely, but I pray it won't come to that. Try not to worry, John. I will do my very best to make sure you have a healthy baby and a happy wife before I leave here today."

Reluctantly Doc left the bedroom, but before heading back downstairs he made his way across the hall to Little John's room and found Sally sitting on the floor with the boy helping him play with his blocks. "Dr. Holliday," Sally squeaked with surprise and quickly jumped to her feet. "How is everything, sir?"

Doc reached down to pick up his son and kissed his soft cheek drawing comfort and strength from the child. "My wife is in labor, Sally. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to stay with John Jr. tonight. Keep him… entertained, so he isn't upset by the unusual activity. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir, of course. Anything I can do to help. " She replied willingly. "And your company downstairs…" She asked discreetly.

"Will be dealt with. No need to worry. The Earps are here and will make sure things remain calm."

Doc turned to look at his son giving him a quick playful tickle. "You, my little man, are to keep Sally company for a spell. Be a good boy and listen to what she tells you. I'll be back to tuck you into bed later. Okay?"

"Yes, Daddy. Will Mommy come to read me a story?"

Doc paused, still amazed at how much the boy's language skills had developed in the last nine months. It seemed almost overnight that his son went from one-syllable words to full sentences. The reason for his quick development was no doubt due to Alexis' daily story hour with the boy. This warm thought also made him wonder what would happen to his son if his mother should die giving birth.

He did his best to swallow the lump of emotion in his throat. "Not tonight Johnny. Your Mommy is…" He struggled to find the right words to explain his mother's condition and not frighten the boy at the same time.

"Your Mommy has a little bellyache tonight, Johnny." Sally quickly suggested and Doc could have kissed her for offering such a brilliant excuse for Alex's absence. "Don't you think she should go to bed early just like you did when you had a bellyache?"

The child mauled over the idea before nodding his approval. "Mommy should stay in bed." He replied in his most serious voice.

"I'll tell her you said so, John." Doc held the child tightly, and fought to control a whirlwind of emotion struggling to erupt into sudden tears. His world felt threatened and everything he held dear was hanging in the balance. "Be a good boy." He whispered and quickly passed the child to Sally before he crumbled into a blubbering mess.

With renewed anger he returned to Alex's sitting room and found that no one had moved since taking Alex upstairs. Arthur still sat on the floor nursing a bruised jaw although he had finally stopped mangling his hat. Virgil still had his shotgun pointed loosely in Guardian's direction. Morgan paced angrily in front of the captive man and Wyatt stood back observing the scene thoughtfully. On the floor by the sofa, Mrs. Li and Sun were busy cleaning the stains from the couch and the rug underneath.

"Leave it." Doc ordered.

Mrs. Li looked up uncertain. "You can clean it tomorrow, or take the whole thing out and burn it for all I care." He snapped. With a wave of his hand he gestured to the other members of the Li family. "If you would, please, go to the kitchen and see about supper for our guests."

After they scurried out of the room he stepped forward, grabbed Arthur by the front of his jacket and hauled him roughly to his feet, slamming his back against the wall. The strength and force his used seemed to surprise the older man. "Yes, I'm quite strong." Doc clarified. "Good health will do that to you. That and exercising with my athletic wife."

Arthur went through the motion of straightening his clothing and his dignity. "Can I please explain?"

"No, you may not." Doc snapped with a menacing look on his face. "I will ask the questions and you'll answer each and everyone truthfully or I'll start yanking out your teeth, slowly, one by one."

Arthur swallowed uncomfortably but managed to look at Doc with an air of admiration. "You're temperament is even more dangerous then my history books related. I'm impressed." When Doc narrowed his eyes sharply, Arthur held up his hand and added, "I'm also prepared to cooperate. Please… I don't want to upset you anymore than I have. I feel just terrible about hurting Alexis. That was never my intention."

"Then why are you here?" Doc demanded. "Why now, after three years of peace and quiet?"

"But it's only been a little more than five months in my world. Alex's death left unanswered questions and there's the small matter of Malachi's and Alex's journals and weapons. I was instructed to document her death and retrieve their personal possessions."

"And to bring her back if you found her alive. Am I correct?"

Arthur sighed. "Yes, I was told to bring her home if I found her alive."

Doc's lips thinned, his eyes burning like two cold-blue flames. "Well, you can forget that idea. I'll never let you take my wife from me."

He abruptly turned away from Arthur and walked over to a small cabinet to retrieve a bottle of brandy. With a steady hand he filled four glasses, passing one to each of the Earps, ignoring Arthur completely before tossing the fourth glass quickly down his throat.

"Did you look in his case, Morgan?" Doc inquired.

Morgan gave Doc a slight nod. "Nothing unusual. Several thousand in gold, maps, clothing, and one handgun."

Doc raised his brows at the mention of a gun. "A modern gun, like Alexis's?"

"No, just the usual 45 pistol."

Wyatt sipped his drink slowly, while studying the older man with interest. Suddenly he stepped forward and in a calm gentle tone asked, "Did you come here alone?"

"Yes." Arthur answered without hesitation.

"How did you find us?" Wyatt continued.

"I went to Tombstone first, of course. The newspaper archives at the Epitaph told me Alex had survived her fight with Malachi and that she had married to you." He nodded toward Doc while reaching into his pocket to pass him the newspaper he stole from the archive. "You were careless and left a paper trail."

Doc snatched the paper from Arthur's hand, glanced briefly at it before slipping it into his vest pocket. "We had no reason to believe anyone would come looking for Alex." Doc snarled.

"After leaving the paper I went to your mining office. When I explained to Mr. Webb that I was an uncle of Alex's he was very accommodating and gave me your address. It took me two days by train to arrive in Kentucky. I went straight from the train to your front door." He reached up and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I should have observed your environment first before making contact, but I was anxious to see Alex. I had no idea my presence would upset her like that. Truthfully, I'd thought she'd be furious. If I had known she was… pregnant and vulnerable I would have proceeded more carefully."

His story was cut off by a sharp cry from upstairs.

"Alex." Doc breathed and quickly set his glass down and ran out of the room.

Wyatt walked over to the bottle of brandy and poured one more glass. Passing the glass to the Englishman he nodded to an empty chair. "You might as well have a seat; it could be a long night."

But it wasn't a long night. An hour later Louisa came bounding down the steps with good news. "It's a boy." She beamed from ear-to-ear. "Alex and the baby are doing fine. No complications whatsoever."

Morgan let out a cry of joy that sounded very close to a rebel yell, picked his wife up and swung her around. "Hot damn. Leave it to Doc to have two sons in a row.

"Two children?" Arthur inquired with surprise.

"Yes," Louisa quickly rounded with a cold gleam in her normally warm blue eyes. "Doc and Alex have two beautiful boys. Their firstborn will be four this August. They also have a very close loving relationship, a prospering dental practice and horse farm, good standing within the community and six very protective friends who will slit your throat and bury your rotting corpse in the rose garden if you do anything to threaten their world. I will personally enjoy digging your grave with my own hands. Do I make myself clear, sir?"

Arthur quickly shut his gapping mouth and nodded. "I quite understand your meaning, madam."

* * *

**Later that night…**

John Holliday sat on the edge of his bed fully dressed and admired the new baby his wife held in her arms. "He's beautiful, Alexis." Gently he caressed the baby's tiny face, marveling at how large his index finger appeared next to his son's cheek.

He was certain perfection had never been presented in such a tiny body before. From the top of the child's dark-brown hair, which Alex swore would fall out and change to a golden blonde, to his puckered lips, long arms and fingers, right down to his lengthy legs, his new son was the splitting image of a Holliday.

"He looks like you, John."

"Hmm." He agreed. "What do you want to call him?"

"Alexander." Alex gushed, "After my father." She looked at her husband silently asking for his approval.

"I like it. Alexander…" He cooed to the infant, leaning down to kiss the small dark head. "Alexander Robert. Robert after my cousin. Alexander Robert Holliday. It has a good sound."

"It does indeed." Alexis agreed.

Doc looked down at the woman who held his heart and felt a warm flush of tears come to his eyes. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her in close to his body until her head rested under his chin where he could place a kiss in her hair.

Today's trauma had a happy ending, but the idea that events could have turned out much worse still had him boiling mad.

The delivery was intense but short-lived. Dr. Sims declared the baby to be healthy and free of injury and once the worst part of the birthing was over Alex was quickly on the mend. Exhausted, she slept for several hours afterwards and woke around eight in the evening feeling refreshed and mentally calmer. Allie insisted on spending the night. She stayed all evening in the master bedroom keeping watch over the baby until Doc was ready to retire and then she quietly slipped out to one of the spare bedrooms down the hall.

Doc was extremely thankful for Allie's kindness. It was a relief knowing she was caring for his son and guarding Alex at the same time.

But safeguarding Alex against her Guardian mentor was no longer a concern. The Earp brothers had taken control of their prisoner escorting him at gunpoint to a storm cellar where he would spend the night until they could figure out what to do about him.

Keeping Arthur in the comfort of a lock bedroom was not an option. Not that Doc would offer the man a bed inside his house and so near to Alex and his children anyway. He was aware that the skilled Guardian would be able to pick any lock and easily escape. The cellar was better than any military prison. The room was several feet below ground and constructed to withstand tornadoes that were known to ravage the area from time to time. There was only one-way in or out, and that door would be heavily bolted from the outside. Wyatt, Virgil and Morgan would also be taking turns guarding the entrance throughout the night.

Wordsworth wasn't happy about his accommodations but he was smart enough not to bitch about them either. Doc was sure the gravity of the situation was very clear to the older man. His life hung precariously in the hands of the men who held him prisoner. Killing him could be easily accomplished and without suspicion. As Louisa had clearly pointed out this afternoon, disposing of the evidence would be so simple a woman could do it.

Wyatt had also taken the extra precaution of arranging for several armed men to patrol the outside of the house around the clock. If Wordsworth wasn't working alone they wanted to be prepared for more company. But intuition told Doc that the Guardian had spoken the truth. The man had counted on his past relationship with Alex and her emotional attachment to that history to give him the upper hand and an element of control.

Given the chance, Doc could have told Wordsworth he was damn poor gambler.

"Alex, you haven't asked about Wordsworth."

"No I haven't." Her voice was curt, and tinged with anger. "But that's only because I'm confident you're taking care of things."

Her words sent a warm flush of masculine pride through his chest. He had been expecting a mixed reaction from Alexis – partly protective of her new life as a wife and mother, but also torn by her loyalties to the Guardians and Arthur. Her current response was… surprising. "And you're not curious as to how I took care of things?"

She looked away from him and down at the baby before her husband could see the anger baking in her eyes. "Is he still alive?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Then that's all I need to know at the moment. I don't want to talk about him tonight. I refuse to let his interference ruin this special event for our family. All I want right now is for you to hold me and to look at my little boy. That's enough for the moment."

"Then that's exactly what you shall have, darlin." He kissed the top of her head again.

Sensing it was time to change the subject Doc suddenly inquired, "Are you hungry? There's a fresh pot of vegetable beef soup simmering on the stove and rolls keeping warm by the oven." Before she could answer he was already scooting off the bed. "I'll fix us a late supper. Stay in bed until I get back."

Alex nodded briefly, a mixture of emotions flashing across her face. Doc saw relief, happiness, love, anger, and fear as she rested in the bed like a vision of motherhood with the infant in her arms. "It's going to all right, Alexis. I swear it."

She gave him a weak uneasy smile, making Doc all the more determined to protect his family by any means possible. When she turned her attention back toward the baby he left to get her dinner, but there was an unwavering air to his step, purposeful and strong.

Tomorrow, he would allow Wordsworth to state his case. In return he would explain Alex's present circumstance so that Arthur could see firsthand how much better off Alex was living in this era, thus giving the Guardian one opportunity to change his mind. If the elderly man was still unmoved by the end of their discussion, and was still determined to take Alex away, then Doc would kill him.

* * *

**The next morning...**

The dinning room table was rectangle in shape. At one end Doc sat at the head with Alex seated at his right hand. Across the table from Alex sat Arthur Wordsworth, slightly uneasy but determined to state his case, and remarkably well groomed considering the man spent the night sleeping on a dirt floor. At the foot of the table sat Wyatt, Virgil to his right and Morgan to his left. All of them, with the exception of Arthur, were armed to the teeth including Alexis. Doc had seen her retrieve her modern looking gun from the closet shelf and tuck it inside a hidden pocket. He kept his mouth shut about her decision to go heeled, but secretly he wondered if the situation took a turn for the worst, would she have the nerve to shoot the man she looked up to as a father figure.

Arthur Wordsworth was very aware of being flanked on all sides. Wisely, he kept his hands above the table. Any false movement, or the slightest mistake, and his life would be ended right here in the middle of Alex's formal dinning room. These men were not one to offer forgiveness, or mercy. They lived by a code long forgotten by people in his modern century, having been replaced by comfort and complacency that governing law gives to a civilized society. Holliday and his friends, the Earps, knew only one set of laws – take care of your own at whatever the cost. Trespasses would not be forgiven but instead swiftly dealt with by gun.

In short, Arthur knew if he screwed up he was a dead man.

For the millionth time he looked across the table at Alexis and saw no pity in her eyes, no leniency, but only a coldness that surprised him. She was ready to talk and to listen, but he already knew there was no way she would willingly return to the future.

Arthur took another sip from his coffee cup, thankful that Alexis cared enough to offer him breakfast. "The eggs were delicious Alex, but you always were a wonderful cook."

Doc jerked with anger in his seat at the familiar and casual manner that Arthur addressed his wife, but Alex calmed him with a touch of her hand. "Cut the chit-chat, Art and explain to me why and how you are here."

Arthur wiped his mouth on his napkin and placed it on the table. "It's simple really. Your friend Angel left a lot of unanswered questions by returning to the present without your journal or weapons. Malachi's are also missing. The Pope and Cardinal Rancini felt these things were important enough to have me come and look for them."

"So, if she gives you the journals you'll leave." Doc growled.

Arthur didn't immediately answer but stalled by sipping his coffee again.

"You were asked to validate my death, weren't you?" Alex asked.

"Yes, I was. But instead of your obituary, I found a wedding announcement." Arthur mocked, the sarcasm in his voice was very apparent.

Alex sighed loudly. "I'm not going back, Arthur. This is my home now, here in 1885, with my husband and my two sons."

"That is very evident, Alex," he leaned in and leveled his gaze at her, "but I still intend to do my best and talk you into leaving."

"NO!" Doc yelled, pounding on the table for emphasizes. "Alex is my wife, damn it. She's not going anywhere."

"He's right, Arthur." Alex quickly concurred. "Go back to your world and tell Cardinal Rancini and Pope what's-his-face I said to fuck off."

"What about your vows, your duty?" He pressed.

"I did my duty, Art! I fulfilled my vows. I gave the Guardians six years of exemplary service and the life of a man I loved dearly! I don't owe them anything else." She hissed through clenched teeth.

"So… you're asking me to lie for you, to cover-up your disappearance? Do you expect me to compromise my ethics for you?"

She shrugged, letting him know his principles and moral held no sway over her decision. "They'll believe you, no matter what you say. Make up whatever story you like. If you need documentation I'll get it for you. Shit, I'll even have a gravestone planted in Boot Hill if that is what you require, but I refuse to go back."

Arthur looked at the pain and determination on her face and sighed with defeat. "Forgive me, Alexis, but I had to try. That is my duty, my vows. As a trainer, a recruiter, I have obligations, too."

He leaned back into his chair and reached for the inside pocket of his jacket. Immediately the movement was halted by the cocking of two guns, one from Morgan Earp, the other from Doc.

"Hands where I can see them." Doc ordered.

Arthur slowly spread his arms. "I was just reaching for my cigars." Slowly with his left hand he turned back his coat and showed the dentist the smokes he had carefully stored in his pocket. "Is it permissible to smoke, Alexis?"

She made a little gesture for him to continue. "I'd forgotten you smoke after a meal."

"Leave'em," Wyatt abruptly said. "Take one of mine instead. Just in case yours are… sabotaged." The lawman held out one cigar for Arthur to take and then immediately snapped a match.

After puffing until the end of the stogy burned bright red, he nodded appreciatively. "You are careful, aren't you, Mr. Earp?" He remarked with a smirk.

Wyatt answered with a calm unblinking gaze and said nothing.

Arthur puffed in silence before suddenly blurting, "I never wanted you to join the Guardians, Alex. I was against your membership from the very beginning."

"But… you…"

"Yes, I know it's confusing." He interrupted. "When I went to that café to meet you that day, I purposely showed you that… horrifying photo hoping it would upset you so much that you would never speak to me again. Obviously, my ploy didn't work. I can't begin to tell you how surprised and how disappointed I was when you rang me several days later."

Wyatt, Virgil and Morgan look on with confusion, unaware of the basis of Arthur's story. Doc motioned for them to be patient, and to say nothing.

"I don't understand… if you were against my membership why bother to approach me at all." Her voice suddenly grew louder as anger over the injustice took control "You could have left me in peace, ignorant of the truth. I was happy, Art, happy and excited about my new life, about college, and returning to my home in Maine. Why did you…" She swallowed back angry tears, "Why did you interfere with my blissfully normal world?"

"For the same reason I'm here today – because I was ordered to do so. Oh, I argued, yelled and ranted in your favor, but in the end I was outvoted and ordered to seek you out."

"And if you had refused?" Doc snapped.

"Then someone else would have gone in my place. That's why I was so… cruel. I tossed that photo at you and hoped for the best. But you're strong willed, Alex, strong and brave like your mother was." His expression became softer, sadder. "You resemble her so much it pains me to look at you sometimes."

"You knew my mother?" She gasped.

He issued a bitter laugh. "I was in love with your mother, and if I hadn't been such a damn fool you'd be my daughter instead of Alexander's. But… life never works out the way you think it will, no matter how hard you try." He tapped the hot ash from the cigar into the ashtray and studied the rising column of smoke in silence.

Morgan scoffed loudly and all eyes turned toward him. "You're either a lousy liar or a conman, Mr. Wordsworth," he insulted. "Personally, I'm for putting you six feet under and calling it a day."

Arthur gave him a sad smile. "No, Mr. Earp, what I am is a sixty-six year old man with an amazing amount of regret. No wife, no children, and no future, but for this secretive organization that has been a part of my life since I was twenty."

"How did you meet my mother, Arthur?"

"In college. Virginia State University to be precise." He suddenly turned to Doc. "Did you know Alex's mother was a blue-blooded Southerner like yourself, Dr. Holliday? The whole family was nestled in the mountains of Virginia since the Revolutionary war and never left. You're grandfather, Alex, even had a confederate flag mounted to the wall in his study."

He chuckled softly before continuing. "I was a teacher's assistance at VSU, studying for my masters, and your mother was the most beautiful sophomore on campus." He grinned at the memory. "There were at least twenty other guys vying for her attention, asking her out on dates, but it was me she said yes to. We dated for a little more than a year. It was serious – our feelings for one another. After our first date we never saw other people. I didn't feel the need to play the field in an effort to gage my emotions for Marie. I believe she felt the same… until..." He looked away sharply as he struggled to control his emotions.

"What happened?" Alex prompted.

"I broke it off," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper, "suddenly and without explanation. You see… there was a whole other world she didn't know about, a darker world, that was very much a part of my life. The closer our relationship became the more I grew afraid, afraid and worried about putting her in danger."

"You were already initiated into the Guardians weren't you?"

He nodded. "She didn't know. Marie thought the tattoos on my arms were the result of a teenage dare. She didn't understand why I was so over protective and why I forbid her to venture out alone at night. She was like every other college girl; she had friends, parties, and study groups. We would fight about her going to these activities without me. She thought I was over possessive, controlling. When I was ordered to go out on an assignment I used her concerns as an excuse to break off our relationship. I picked a fight, made it easy for her to leave. Two days later I was in Romania fully emerged in my Guardian life.

Later, Marie regretted leaving me. She called, wrote letters, begged me to contact her, but I didn't. I never went back to Virginia. The next year I heard she transferred to Maine and that's where she met your father.

Through the years I kept track of her. I wanted to see if her life was pleasant and that she was happy and…. Well, it was apparent she loved your father a great deal. Your parents were a good match, Alex, and obviously a very devoted, loving couple.

And then one night my worst nightmare came true. Alexis, I wish with all my heart that your mother and father had never attended that play in New York."

Alex stole a quick look at Doc to see what his reaction was to the tale. The sharp scrutinizing expression on his face was all the answer she needed. Her husband was carefully listening, but not entirely convinced.

"But, why pick me, Art. Was it because of my parent's death? Is that why the Guardians wanted me to join?"

"That's one reason. The other was because of your special medical condition. Your ability to heal so quickly was not entirely unique, Alex. Your mother had the same condition. Didn't she ever tell you?"

She leaned back against her chair, surprised by what he was telling her. "No…" she stuttered, "but I suppose that's not something you could explain to a child."

"It's a special condition that's been in your mother's family for generations. Passed down from mother to child. Your mother told me about it one night after she cut herself badly while cooking me dinner. I was amazed when the cut on her hand healed completely in under an hour.

The Guardians thought it would bring an extra quality to the organization, but that's not all… they also suspected your ability could be triggered into the next stage – the ability to heal others. They searched for ways to make that happen but never found a means. It seems nature did it for us… or for you, actually."

"They wanted me to be what…a guinea pig, a lab rat?" She was shocked, caught completely by surprised at the deceptive nature of the organization. Judging from the startled expressions on Doc's and the Earp's faces they too were just as stunned.

Arthur flinched slightly at the analogy. "But for the good of mankind, Alex." He clarified. "If your ability to heal could be reproduced in others, think of the noble things they could do."

"Yes…" She hissed horrified by what he was revealing. "The Vatican would have an army of demon fighters who can heal innocents and themselves. We'd be invincible, wouldn't we? Almost like a militia of young Gods, don't you think Arthur?"

He ignored her sarcasm. "Think of all the sick children, Alex. People suffering with cancer, spinal injuries, or…. Tuberculosis." He nodded toward Doc with a gleam in his eyes.

"Tuberculosis is not a terminal disease in your time, Arthur. Unfortunately, in the nineteenth century antibiotics haven't been invented yet."

"But you healed him." Again he nodded toward Doc.

"Yes, this Doc Holliday also suffered with consumption, Art, but I healed him not with the intent of disrupting the timeline but because Malachi bit him. He had plans to turn Doc and the Earps into vampires. Can you imagine the trouble I would have had if he succeeded? With Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp as vampires I would have lost the battle. Tombstone would have been doomed and history, or what I thought was my history, would have been changed even more than it was. I also needed them alive and well enough to help me fight."

"You're right, of course, but something tells me you also healed him because of your involvement. You let your feelings get the better of you."

"Yes, I did!" She shouted while standing up to stress her point. "I healed him because I loved him. I healed him because the Doc Holliday I knew got a lousy hand dealt him when he was born. His life was a sad, lonely, miserable existence and I wanted to change that, so, damn it, I did! I wanted to do something good for a kind gentle soul who never had a happy moment in his life, who would have died a horrible lingering death if I hadn't intervened."

Breathing hard she leaned across the table, glaring down at Arthur, well aware of the shocked expressions on the faces of the other men at the table, on her husband's face, and yet unable to stop herself. "The chances of me walking away from a fight against Malachi were never good, Art. You knew that, so did Angel and Spike. So before I was slaughtered by my demonic husband, I decided to do something decent, something right." Without looking at Doc she gestured in his direction. "I changed his life and then I begged him to go home to his family. At the time I didn't care that I'd altered history. Malachi had already destroyed it anyway, and neither of us had any idea we had trespassed into an alternate reality. What did it matter if one sick gambler regained his health and lived long enough to play with his grandchildren? I never intended to stay here, never intended to see how things worked out, but…"

She reached out and captured Doc's hand, holding it tightly with her own. Doc looked back at her, his expression full of astonishment and pain. "I love him, Arthur, and he loves me. After all the injustice in his life and mine, it seemed only fair that we both took what happiness we could."

"Yes," he agreed, "it seems fair, but when did you determine that two wrongs suddenly make a right, Alexis?"

She released Doc's hand and narrowed her eyes sharply at her mentor. "What would you have me do, Art, pretend to be stoic, suppress my feelings and blindly follow orders like you? Let me ask you something… how fucking happy are you after putting your needs to one side for years and years, always doing what was best for the order? If you had the chance, could go back through time and relive your year at Virginia State, would you still walk out on my mother for that mission in Romania?"

His face went pale with anger and then the emotion passed. A sad smile slowly phased over his face. "You fight like your mother, too. She always had a way of getting to the heart of the matter and exposing it to the surface to examine."

Exhausted, Alexis collapsed back into her chair. "Why are you telling me all this now? Are you hoping to soften my resolve? Because if you are…"

"No." He interrupted with a wave of his hand. "I'm telling you this because… because I'm going to right a wrong I committed a long time ago. I'm going to leave you in peace, Alexis, like I should have done when you were eighteen. I'll go back and tell the Cardinal I saw your grave, but I'll need to gather some proof and of course I'll need to bring back yours and Malachi's journals and weapons."

Alex studied his expression looking for any sign of sincerity. "Will you give me your word, Art? Do you promise to say nothing of my new life here in this world?"

He pushed up the sleeve of his coat to expose the markings on his forearm. "As one Guardian to another, you have my solemn vow to keep your secret."

Alex breathed a sigh of relief and reached to clasp her husband's hand.

Doc nodded but still appeared skeptical. "I imagine you will have to return to Tombstone before you can invoke the spell."

Arthur slowly nodded. "That's true."

"There's a train leaving the station in an hour." Virgil barked.

Throughout Arthur's discussion, the burly lawman had remained quiet and contained. Now as Alex studied his expression she saw the underlying anger and stress he struggled to hide. Briefly she wondered if Virgil wasn't pondering the right and wrong angles to her living in this era.

"I… I was hoping to spend some time with you, Alex…"

His plea was cut off when Doc suddenly let loose a growl of frustration. "Your visit has been lengthy enough, Mr. Wordsworth. May I suggest you take your leave before my good humor dissipates?"

Arthur swallowed uncomfortably and softly asked, "Can…can I at least meet your children? I would greatly enjoy…."

"No, you may not." Doc answered firmly and without hesitation.

Arthur looked at Alex for her input, but she was slowly shaking her head. "If it were only up to me, Arthur, I might let you see them, but…" She glanced at Doc, "they're his children too, and he is responsible for their welfare and for mine."

"I understand… of course, you don't trust me. There's really no reason why you should."

"My thoughts exactly." Doc concurred.

"Well…" Arthur breathed, "I guess I'll take my leave then. If you would gather the journals, Alex, and of course, your weapons."

"Art," she began, "my journal holds all my secrets. If the Cardinal should see them, then…"

"It will lead them right to your front door." He finished. "I see your point." He looked away thoughtfully for a moment before asking, "What about Malachi's?"

"Of course, his ends right before the battle… but, it also outlines my relationship with Doc. Truthfully, I don't feel comfortable letting either book out of my sight."

"I agree."

"Well… now what?" She looked around the table expecting the men to have some other suggestion but no one spoke up.

"In cases such as this, it wouldn't be unusual for the priest in Tombstone to have burned the journals in an effort to protect the order, and to hide the existence of Guardians and vampires."

"So… you'll what…tell them the journals were burned?"

He nodded. "It would close any loophole. Could this priest give me a certificate of death, or some kind of record? Would he be comfortable lying for you?"

"I think he could be persuaded." Doc answered. "Father Martin has been very understanding about Alex's situation, and mine. I'll send a wire giving him the instructions for the documents you need. I'll also have a stone erected in the church cemetery. Would that be sufficient?"

"Very sufficient, Dr. Holliday. This way I won't be lying when I tell Rancini I've seen your tombstone." The Guardian chuckled softly. "Notice I said stone and not grave."

"Must you take my weapons too, Art. Couldn't you leave them…"

"Alexis…" Doc started to intervene.

She cut him off. "A Guardian never willing surrenders his weapons, John. The only exception is at death, and I'm not dead yet." Her voice was cool, firm, leaving no doubt about the fight that would ensue if he pushed the issue.

"But you are dead, Alex. At least… that is what I intend to tell Randcini." Arthur explained.

She set her jaw and said nothing.

After waiting a moment, Arthur realized Alex had no intention of discussing the issue further. Floundering hopelessly, he glanced once at Doc to see where he stood, but the gambler only shrugged lightly and looked away. "I can see I have no option but to expand my fabrication. I suppose I could tell Cardinal Rancini your weapons were lost after the battle and hope he doesn't ask too many questions."

"Alex," Wyatt called in an even tone, "you really should hand over your weapons. You don't need them now, and the more evidence he takes back, the less suspicion it will raise."

"Wyatt's right, Alex," Doc concurred. "You don't need your weapons. You're a wife and mother now, patrolling and fighting the forces of evil have no place in your life anymore."

"But… what if something should happen. What if something wicked this way comes." She quoted.

"Then the Earp and I will handle it. Give Arthur your weapon bag along with Malachi's."

The expression on her face changed from defensive to defiant so quickly Doc wasn't entirely certain he read her correctly.

"No! I won't do it!"

"Alex..." Doc continued, his voice rising to a level of authority, "if we don't give Wordsworth sufficient proof of your death then they will send someone else. Do you want to go through this again?"

The threat worked. Doc watched her resolve crumble and defeat take its place. "All right." She agreed softly. "I'll go get my things."

She rose slowly from her chair without looking anyone in the eye. Doc also stood and walked her out of the room.

"Are you following me to make sure I do as I'm told?" She groused once they reached the privacy of the hallway.

He took no pleasure in her downcast expression. "Yes and no." He answered while rapping a comforting arm around her shoulders as he led her up the steps. "I'm trying to be supportive, and… well…" he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I have one little alteration to make that might help ease your pain, darlin."

Alex raised one questioning brow but Doc only smirked at her and ushered her into their bedroom.

The train station was bustling with activity despite the drenching down pour and the stormy afternoon sky. Maintaining his distance, Arthur Wordsworth waited several feet away from the prominent party that had escorted him to the station. Alexis stood sheltered and well protected between the four men, Doc Holliday, Wyatt, Virgil and Morgan Earp, who all were discreetly armed as they waited anxiously for their guest to board the train.

Alex felt hot tears fill her eyes as she looked at the two weapon bags slung over Arthur's shoulder. But it wasn't only her old faithful weapons that were leaving her. Parting from Arthur was almost as painful. He was her last connection to her home, her last connection to family, and even though his arrival caused more harm than good, she was still sorry to see him leave.

"I'm sorry, deeply sorry for the distress I caused you, Alexis. I can't begin to tell you how relieved I am that you and your baby are unharmed."

"Thank you, Arthur. I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

"That's true. I was so happy to find you alive I completely lost my head. But all's well that ends well, as the saying goes. Dr. Holliday, my apologies to you, as well. I am very thankful that you're a reasonable man."

Doc's lips thinned into a tight line, his patience stretched to the breaking point. "Reasonable, yes, but only to an extent, sir. If you show yourself again, I'll shoot you without a second thought or guilty conscious. You would do well to take that under advisement."

Arthur chuckled lightly as he mentally brushed off the other man's threat. "I shall heed your warning. I can't promise that Cardinal Rancini will be satisfied with my story, but I will do my best to convince him the case is closed."

"We will send a wire to Tombstone this morning Art. Father Martin will be ready with the necessary papers when you arrive. It should be enough." Alex replied.

"Quite." Arthur agreed.

The train whistle blew loudly, drowning out all sound for a moment. "All aboard!" The conductor called. "All aboard!"

Wordsworth turned to look around the station's passengers as they hustled about, and at the train and the large cloud of steam and smoke billowing from the engine. He turned back toward Alex and smiled. "It's marvelous, isn't it?"

Knowing he was speaking of the nineteenth century inventions, Alex nodded eagerly. "I know, it's been almost four years and I'm still adjusting."

"Is it difficult doing without all the modern conveniences?"

She gave her head a slight shake. "No. Actually, it's been rather easy. I find that I don't miss much. The things that truly matter are heightened in this time – family, friends, children, and community. The modern populace has buried what should be important under a mountain of devices, material items, wants and needs, Arthur. Without them one is stripped to the bare essentials, allowing one to focus on what makes living worthwhile." She ended her speech with a loving glance toward her husband. When Doc turned to meet her gazed she added, "I've never been happier."

"All aboard!"

Arthur swallowed hard the lump of pain building in his throat. "Well, I'd better go. Goodbye, Alexis." As hard as he tried his voice still broke with emotion.

Alex went to step forward, but Doc's strong arm held her back. The questioning look she gave him was answered by his stern protective glare. Resolved that her husband wouldn't let her get too close to the elderly man, she looked tearfully back at Arthur from a safe distance. "Goodbye, Arthur. Thank you for being such a good friend. And please give my regards to Angel. I'm so relieved he got home okay."

"I will. And you take care of yourself and your family. I'm… glad I got to see how happy you are. It seems fitting, considering I was the one who altered your life so severely all those years ago." He paused wanting to say so much more but the words wouldn't come. "You really do look just like your mother – beautiful, just as she was."

He looked away from her before he was overwhelmed by his emotions and turned to address the men. Touching the brim of his hat he nodded. "Dr. Holliday. Gentlemen. Thank you for your…" he smirked slightly, "hospitality."

In the suddenly downpour it was hard to see clearly, but Alex watched Art step onto the train and turn once more to wave goodbye. Then he eased into the first car and disappeared.

Doc's nod toward Wyatt was pointless. The three lawmen were already fanning out to surround the train making sure that Arthur didn't exit the locomotive.

"Is that really necessary?" Alex snapped to Doc as she watched the Earps.

"Yes, I feel that it is. I can't be too careful with you Alex. You have a habit of getting into trouble."

She gave an indignant snort. "I do not. You know perfectly well, John Holliday that I can take care of myself."

"Oddly, that's not very comforting." He replied as he watched the train pull away from the station.

A disturbing sensation overcame Alex when she walked through the front doors of her house, but it only took her a moment to clarify her feelings. Her home had been violated, her location compromised. The secure, safe feeling she had worked so hard to create was gone. One Guardian knew she was alive and living in Kentucky, and if Arthur should fail to convince the Cardinal of her death then another investigator would be dispatched to seek out the truth. Feeling vulnerable and scared she wondered if she should talk to Doc about moving to another state. Perhaps change their name as well. Anything to escape this exposed sensation.

Shrugging off her wet frock, hat and shoes she hustled about helping the men cast aside their wet coats while mulling over the days events in her head. Once everyone's coats were hung up to dry she made her way upstairs to check on her children.

Sitting in the master bedroom, Allie, Louisa and Josie greeted her with anxious expressions.

"Well…." Allie asked while handing her the infant.

Alex tenderly kissed the baby's head before settling onto the sofa and let loose a loud sigh of relief. "He's gone. Took the Southern Pacific back West to Tombstone."

"Will he lie for you?" Josie asked.

"Yes, so he says. Since there's no way for me to be sure I'll just have to hope for the best." She waved away her jumbled thoughts while unfastening her top to let the baby breastfeed. The tension in her face faded as she watched Alexander nurse. "God, I thought my breasts would pop if I stood out on the train platform much longer." She turned to Allie. "Was he good?"

Allie smiled brightly. "As gold. Leave it to you to have two good babies."

All the women looked up when Sally knocked and quickly entered with Louisa's daughter, Amy, and John Jr. Both children were only a few months apart in age and enjoyed playing together. "Little John heard you talking. He was so anxious about seeing you, Miss Alex, I hope you don't mind."

"No, Sally that's fine. Thank you for babysitting." Alex replied before addressing her son. "So, John, what do you think of your little brother?" She leaned forward slightly to let the boy get a closer look.

"He's too small." The boy complained. "I want a bigger brother to play with."

Allie, Louisa, Josie and Sally all laughed while Alex did her best to hide her amusement. "He'll get bigger, Johnny, you'll see. And then you two can play."

The child seemed to think this over carefully. "Do you promise?"

Before she could reply, Doc entered into the room and walked directly over to where Alex was sitting.

Sally, seeing her chance to escape, slipped out as quickly as she came in.

"Lunch is ready." He offered. "Why don't you bring the children downstairs so that Wyatt and his brothers can see them?"

A curious little gleam emerged in Alex's eyes. "Why," she meekly asked, "Are you afraid of causing a scandal by inviting them to sit in my boudoir?"

"Scandals never frighten me, Alexis." He drawled, "I revel in the opportunity to converse with four lovely ladies behind the seclusion of a closed door. Nor do they disturb Wyatt or Virgil, but Morgan, on the other hand, refuses to come upstairs."

Louisa giggled lightly. "That's my husband, Mr. Prim and Proper"

"We'll go help with lunch, Alex." Allie suggested while gesturing to the other women and the children. "Come down when you're ready."

"I'll just be a minute, Allie." She called out as they passed out the doors.

"Not so fast, Mrs. Holliday." Doc reached out and smoothed the loose curls around her neck while he watched the baby nurse. "I need a moment with my wife."

She cast a suspicious eye in his direction while lifting the baby from her chest. Gently she began to rub his back to help him burp. "What is on your mind, John? Are you going to be overly protective now? Forbid me from venturing outside alone or something?"

"Hmm," he pondered, "That thought hadn't occurred to me, but now that you bring it up…" He gave her a wicked grin when an expression of panic lit her face. "Relax, Alex," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a long thin black velvet box. "I just wanted to give my beautiful wife a present."

Before taking the box she settled the infant into his bassinet sitting next to the sofa. "What is it?"

"A small babble that Allie tells me you've been eyeballing for the past six months."

She gasped loudly with sheer excitement. "Oh, John!"

"Go on, open it." He encouraged.

With trembling hands she lifted the lid to reveal the ten-inch long, double strand of pearls inside. "But… I lost our bet…" She replied while lifting the necklace in the air.

"True." He grinned. "And tomorrow I intend to burn all your underwear. The pearls are for giving me another beautiful son, Alexis, and because I love you. I actually bought them weeks ago, long before we made our wager."

He took the necklace from her and draped it around her neck, pausing while Alex lifted her hair so that he could fasten the clasp. Her fingers eagerly touched the smooth pebbles, caressing the strains lightly. She turned so that he could see how they looked. "Thank you." She whispered leaning in close enough to kiss him.

"Hmm. You are very welcomed." He replied while passing an approving eye over the pearls. "They are breathtaking against your skin."

She studied his expression letting her hands travel over his familiar features, noting his unshaven face and tired bloodshot eyes. "Maybe I should have bought you a present. I think this birth was harder on you than it was on me."

"Humph," He grumbled while caressing her cheek, "A slight understatement, darlin, don't you think?"

Mindlessly she fingered the wave of hair that always fell across his face, brushing it back from his forehead, letting her fingers sink into his scalp just the way he liked it. "You've been through a lot these past twenty-four hours." Slowly she kissed the corner of his mouth, and reached for his shoulders to need the tight muscles she found there. "So brave. So strong." She purred while darting out the tip of her tongue to flick against his lips. "You were magnificent, John. I never worried about a thing."

He groaned under the tender caresses and sensual words. "Would you say it was worthy of a reward?" He asked hopefully. There was a sharp hitch in his breathing when she bit the sensitive skin directly above the collar of his shirt. "Oh, God," he pleaded, "please say yes."

Alex issued a husky giggle and Doc lost his control, letting his mouth press urgently over hers, seeking her out, raising the level of passion for them both. He would have taken her then and there; actually had her halfway reclined against the sofa when a sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Doc? Alex? Is everything all right in there?" Virgil called.

Doc groaned loudly and let loose several colorful curses.

"Shhhh," Alex quietly soothed him, "He's just worried and with good cause."

"Yes, Virgil," Doc answered, "We're fine, just feeding the baby."

"Oh!" He gasped, embarrassed by the intrusion. "Sorry. Guess my nerves are still on edge."

Alex managed to hold in her laugher until Virgil's footsteps passed down the hall. "Poor Virgil."

Doc snorted with frustration and sat up.

"And poor, John." She quickly added while her hand traveled between his legs soothing him in ways that only she could. "I believe you've earned a very large and lengthy reward." She watched as his dark expression lightened. "Let's take a nap after lunch."

"Are you… feeling well enough for…"

"Yes, I'm healed, but you should be gentle." She playfully kissed him again.

He leaned to expose one breast and flicked his tongue over the peaked nipple, catching the drop of milky liquid glistening there. "I'll be so gentle, Alex, that you'll soon be begging me to end your torment."

She laughed lightly and rose from the sofa while fastening her top. "You're a lush, John Holliday."

"I know." He agreed while leaning down to pick up his newborn son. "And I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you love every minute of it, too."

* * *

The train's top speed was only about thirty miles per hour. Slow when compared to modern day engines, but Arthur didn't mind in the least. He relaxed into the small bench and looked out the window. _How different everything looks,_ he thought. The world looked bigger, less complicated with so few towns, people and very little roads. _I can see why Alex likes it here._

He suddenly remembered the two bags sitting on the floor next to his luggage. Reaching for the nearest weapon bag he pulled back the zipper and looked inside. Much to his surprise he found all the standard Guardian gear sitting neatly within. Without pulling out any of the weapons into plain sight, he made a mental inventory of the contents before he realized that one of the most important pieces was missing. Setting aside that bag he reached for the other one and saw that it too lacked a certain weapon.

Anger shot through him, causing him to consider getting off at the next station in order to catch the returning train back to Alex's town. But after careful consideration he realized that his anger was groundless, and stupid. He should have known that Alex would never turn over her sword or Malachi's sword. Both pieces of weaponry were very personal, and most Guardians would rather die than willing handover their most prized weapon.

Frustrated by his new dilemma, Arthur sighed loud enough to disturb the woman sitting across from him. He smiled apologetically to her as he mentally started to compose the elaborate lie he would give to Rancini upon his return.

_Well, Victor is was like this… the journals were burned by the local priest in fear that they would reach the wrong hands, and the swords were stolen shortly after the battle ended, no doubt pawned by the local ruffians. Yes, of course I looked high and low, but there was no trace of them. Our only consolation is that no one will know what those swords were used for or who the previous owners were. But you'll be happy to know I returned with their weapon bags. Oh, and by the way… here is the church record documenting Alexis's burial for your files. I also took the liberty of placing a large floral arrangement by her stone with a small plague that said 'rest in peace'._

He chuckled softly at the irony before drifting into a tranquil sleep.

**The End – for now.**


	4. Four Years, Two Months Later

**Four Years, Two Months After Their Wedding…**

**You Can Take The Girl Out Of The Guardians, But You Can't Take The Guardian Out Of The Girl. **

* * *

A unique sound invaded the warm comforting air of the Holliday kitchen where two women share the burden of preparing for the festive Christmas season. The noise itself wasn't exactly a disturbing noise, but it certainly wasn't in the family of mixing, chopping and spooning jingles one makes while baking. The sound was rhythmic, like a drumbeat. It was sharp and growing sharper, louder by the second.

Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Then a long drawn out breath of a heavy sigh.

TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP…..

"Allie! Beating fudge involves using one's wrist and elbow rotating in a circular motion."

"Huh?" Allie lifted her eyes toward Alex. "Did you say something, dear?"

Alex studied her friend's distracted expression before explaining. "You need to stir the chocolate. Striking the spoon against the bottom of the pot isn't getting the job done."

Allie looked momentarily confused before glancing down at the wooden spoon she held poised inside the large pot of half-finished chocolate fudge. "Oh, shit!" She exclaimed before attacking the candy with renewed vigor. "Sorry, Alexis. I guess I was gathering wool…"

"Just gathering?" Alex questioned. "From the look on your face I'd say you were far away knitting sweaters with that gathered wool." She crossed the kitchen to stand next to her friend. "What's wrong Allie? You've been very preoccupied today and quiet. Too quiet for you."

The answer she received was a weak smile. "Just tired I guess. Christmas always wears me out, and I haven't half the commitment you have. I don't know how you do it, Alex."

"They're called servants, Allie. It takes tremendous effort to stop John from bringing more home, and if you weren't so stubborn, Virgil would get you some extra help around the house." Mentioning the gruff, yet loveable, lawman's name received a reaction from her friend, just not the one Alex thought she'd get. There was a quick flash of pain that registered in the other woman's eyes before she looked away to continue stirring the candy.

"Oh, the work is nothing really." Allie confessed without looking up from her task. "Virgil is so busy these days I hardly see him. It's almost like having the house to myself sometimes."

The revelation was such a surprise it took Alex a moment to recover from the shock. _Busy? Busy doing what?_ She thought. To hide the discomfort she was feeling, Alex turned away from Allie to retrieve the glass pan she would use to store the fudge once it was ready. "So…. Virgil's involvement with the new jail is keeping him busy?" She casually asked.

"Oh, yes." Allie replied in a less than thrilled tone. "The town's officials are full of questions and they seem to think my husband is the only one with the answers. I don't know why they didn't ask Wyatt for his advice about building that jail, but you know Virgil, he can't help but get involved."

Alex stole another quick glance at Allie from under her lashes and what she saw was a very worried woman. "Let me guess… lots of meetings with the other business men in town, which take place, of course, in the local saloon?"

"You guessed it."

"Uh, well…. He can't be out late every night, is he, Allie?" This time she turned to look her friend directly in the eye.

"Lately, it seems that way." Allie replied in a whisper before letting her eyes slip to one side.

Before she could press for more answers, a baby's cry broke the tension in the air. Alex turned and looked across the room of her lengthy kitchen. "Oh, shoot. I think nap time is over." She wiped her hands hastily on her apron. "I was hoping to finish before Alexander woke up."

"Oh, let me get him, Alex. You know I can't hold my godson enough." Allie shoved the wooden spoon at her friend before stepping lightly across the room.

"Hush, baby. What are you fussing about?" Allied cooed. Reaching into the cradle she emerged with the seven-month-old infant balanced in her arms. Light-green eyes the exact shade of Alexis' surveyed the room, blonde curls haloed around his head while crocodile tears quickly dried from his cheeks. Allie reached up with one finger and wiped away the last glistening drop. "Big faker." She teased.

"Ain't that the truth?" Alex called from across the room.

"You know, Alexis… Alexander many have your coloring, but he's the splitting image of Doc."

"He's a Holliday." Alex explained while quickly spooning the finished fudge into the glass pan before it set. "Lex might have my eye color, but his disposition is entirely his father's. That Southern charm is a sticky thing; it seems to fall from father to son too easily. John thinks it's funny, but after watching Lex flirt and manipulate my in-laws, I'm not so amused. During their last visit, he purposely monopolized their attention so that poor little John was practically forgotten. His feelings were quite hurt."

"Babies are such a joy," Allie sighed, "no matter how fickle their personalities can be."

There was something in Allie's wistful comment that disturbed Alex, causing her to once again pause from her task and take a good long look at her friend. Allie was seated in the rocking chair by the fire with the baby squeezed tight in her arms, her cheek pressed loving against the top of Alexander's head. To a casual observer the quiet moment might have looked ordinary, but the heartbreaking need Alex recognized told a hidden tale. _Damn Virgil_, she stewed. _Instead of running around at night designing plans for some elaborate jail, he should be home making babies with his wife. _It wasn't a secret that Allie had been looking forward to having children for a long time, and although the loving couple had been trying for a baby so far their luck was poor.

"Take him home with you, Allie." Alex lightly quipped. Setting aside the finished fudge, she quickly gathered the ingredients for pies she needed to make - one cherry and two apple. "That way I can get all my work done before John senior comes home. As a matter of fact, you can babysit my husband too, and then I'll have oodles of time to get ready for Christmas."

"Getting rid of me so soon, darlin?" Doc called from the doorway. "I calculated at least six years of marriage before you cast me off." He strolled across the stone floor to stand directly behind Alex, slipping his arms around her waist he leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Would you care to explain how I misinterpreted my years of usefulness?"

"Oh that's easy….it started when your father wrote last week saying he was coming for Christmas after all, and now I'm pressed for time to prepare."

He stepped back to get a better look at his wife's face. "I could hire…"

"No!" She quickly cut him off. "No more servants. I'm up to my ears in domestic help. What I need is time, Doc." She narrowed her eyes sharply at him. "Speaking of time… What are you doing home so early? If you're looking to catch me fooling around with one of the stable hands you missed him. That sweet young thing left hours ago." Struggling hard not to crack a smile at her husband's sour expression, Alex abruptly looked away and back down at the bowl of pie crust she was mixing.

"He left?" Doc inquired. "Damn it! I paid him to keep you engaged until three o'clock."

Allie suddenly laughed loudly. "Come on Lexi," she said, while rising from the rocker, "I'll take you upstairs and change your diaper. Do you want me to babysit for a few hours Alex?"

"That would be wonderful, but what about Virgil? Don't you have to make dinner?"

"No, not tonight. He's has a business dinner with the Mayor and Sheriff Jacobs. I don't expect him home until late, again."

Alex intercepted a confused look from John but Allie had floated out of the room before she could say anything. "What is it?" She asked him in a whisper.

"Oh, it might be nothing, only… I saw Virgil having lunch with the Mayor and Sheriff at Church's Inn. I doubt very much they are meeting for dinner as well.

"Maybe Virgil's plans changed or maybe Allie got her times mixed up."

"Maybe…." Doc mused while cutting himself a fresh piece of fudge.

"You don't think…." The accusation hung unvoiced in the air but the meaning was loud and plain.

Doc avoided her gaze while sampling her candy. Alex waited as patiently as she could for him to gather his thoughts, but after several seconds she finally lost all control.

"John…" she warned, "what do you know?"

"Nothing concrete… just whispers of discontentment. Heated arguments between Allie and Virgil. That he often leaves her alone, and that Wyatt was concerned enough to check up on his brother only to discover he's not always where he says he's going to be."

"Oh, you can't be serious. Virgil is devoted…"

Doc raised one eyebrow and said nothing.

"There has to be another explanation." Alex prompted.

A low questioning hum was all the answer she received.

I'll kill him!" Alex finally hissed through narrow lips. "First I'll cut off his… you know… and then I'll kill him."

Doc chuckled low and shook his head. "See, this is why I didn't want to say anything. You get too involved, Alexis. This is between a husband and wife, and not any of your business." His last several words were accented by lightly tapping his finger against the tip of her nose.

Brushing his hand aside, Alex quickly retaliated. "Oh," she mocked, "and is that why Wyatt's snooping around and concerned enough to bring it to your attention."

"He merely asked if I knew anything, and if maybe Allie had said anything to you, or if any of my patients gossiped."

"What did you say?"

"I said it was hard for my patients to talk while my fingers were in their mouths, but that I heard that several of the men in town were showing an active interest in that new seamstress working at Phil Cunningham's clothing store and that Virgil was one of them."

"What kind of interest?"

"The male kind." He smirked. "But mostly just gossip about how attractive she is."

She frowned, bringing ridges of concern between her brows. "Seamstress… Oh, you mean the Lauder woman?" When he nodded her frown deepened. "She's hardly what I would call gossip material. Sure, she's tall and has nice dark hair but she dresses kind of plain for a seamstress and she's not very pretty."

"I agree, but apparently Phil Cunningham and his son, Rodger, are of a different mind. Rumor has it that both are competing for the fair lady's hand, as is the delivery boy from the grocers – whose name escapes me at the moment – and Tim Brooks, the laborer who helped out with our fences last month."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I remember Tim. A very nice man, who I believe came calling for our Sally once or twice. I wonder why he had a change of heart. And I bet Elizabeth Cunningham is just ecstatic over her husband's affections for the new employee, not to mention her teenage son fawning over an older woman."

"As I recall, older women are sometimes a blessing in disguise when you're an oversexed teenage boy."

She thought about his answer while studying his expression. "Well, you're not a teenager anymore, dearest. You stay away from that woman, or else…"

"Or else what?" He pondered with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "You're not one to make idle threats, Alexis."

"I'm glad you comprehend that, John." She replied roughly while removing the pan of fudge from his reach. "Now, stop eating my fudge and go ponder all the evil things I will do to you if you are ever unfaithful to me."

He chuckled low and asked, "When's dinner?"

"At seven, but maybe later if you don't get out of my hair. I have to finish these pies first. Your father and stepmother will be here in three days and my baking is not done."

He laughed outright and turned to leave. "I'll take Little John for a walk."

"John," she called after him, "Why are you home early?"

"I had the time free and I missed you."

"Oh." Alex murmured through a heart full of guilt. "And all I do is bark at you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I love listening to you snip, but be prepared, Mrs. Holliday, I fully intend to collar you later tonight." He laughed once more when she blushed deeply before walking out of the room.

* * *

**Early the next afternoon…**

"Sun," Alex called into the laundry room where her best helper was ironing clothes, "do you feel like taking a trip into town with me? I have some shopping to do and could use the help."

"Gladly!" The young oriental woman's face brightened at the idea of an afternoon of shopping. "Give me a moment to grab my coat and tell my mother."

"That's fine. I'll let Sally know she needs to watch the children and I'll meet you out front." She hurried down hall and up the stairs to the nursery where Sally was playing with John Jr. and Alexander.

"Sally, I'm leaving now."

"Yes, Ms. Alex." Sally called back while jumping to her feet. "Will you be long?"

"Oh a couple of hours I think. I need to go to the grocer's first and then to a few stores. I haven't found a Christmas present for my husband yet. Dr. Holliday is so hard to buy for." Reaching down she swooped up Alexander off the floor, swinging the baby high over her head making him screech with glee.

Setting the baby back down on the floor Alex leaned over to see the colorful picture Little John was carefully drawing. "That's a lovely picture, John. A very good rendering of our house. Is that Daddy standing next to you on the front porch?"

"Yes." He replied without looking up. "This picture is for Daddy. I made one for you too Mommy, but Lex ate it. See." He pointed to a wet crumbled piece of paper that lay several feet away.

"Oh, dear." Alex exclaimed while doing her best to hide her smile. "Not to worry John. I'm sure your father will share his picture with me." She leaned over to place a tender kiss on the boy's head before standing up to take her leave.

"Do you need me to pick up anything for you, Sally?"

"No ma'am. Thank you for asking, but I'm all done my shopping."

Alex huffed loudly. "Lucky you. I don't think I'll ever be done. I was up to ten o'clock last night baking deserts and I still didn't get my bread made."

"I'll take the boys to the kitchen and fix them a snack. While their eating I can start making the bread for the week."

"Oh thank you Sal." Alex replied while walking toward the bedroom door. "What would I do without you?" She paused in the doorway when she remembered the conversation she had with Doc the night before. "Oh, Sally…"

"Yes, miss?"

"Dr. Holliday tells me we need some sections of our fence repaired again. Do you know if Tim Brooks is available to help out?"

The young maid's face went scarlet, her eyes reflecting pain and sadness before she quickly recovered. "I don't know Ms. Alex. I haven't seen much of Tim lately. I could send word…"

"No," Alex quickly cut her off, the answer to her secret question revealed, "I'll ask Dr. Holliday to inquire. Thank you, Sally."

A disturbing sensation began to knawel in the pit of Alex's stomach as she made her way out the front door where her one-horse buggy and Sun were waiting. It was a feeling that she knew all to well, but one that she hadn't needed to rely upon since her life and death battle in Tombstone four years ago. Call it a sixth sense or premonition, but something was seriously wrong and Alex had the feeling the answers lay with a certain seamstress.

The town of Faywood, Kentucky was small, quaint and very rural. It was close enough to Lexington, to conduct horse business, but far enough removed to give Alex and Doc the exclusion they craved. The land was rich with rolling hills of green grass begging to be populated with young stud horses. The town's populace still small enough that you got to know all your neighbors and their kin.

Doc had found success in his dental practice. His flamboyant past was known, but the fame that accompanied his name hadn't yet colored people's opinions. Hence he was able to settle in and let the town get to know the real John Henry Holliday and after four years both Doc and the town's people found the relationship congenial.

Alex enjoyed the quiet setting. She came into town twice a week, sometimes more, to shop, or to visit her husband at his office. It was only three miles from the house to town, and the dry, tightly packed roads were kept in good condition making the trip by buggy very easy.

The afternoon air was sharp with the crispness of winter, and even though the sun shone brightly, by the time Alex and Sun arrived in town both the women's noses and cheeks burned brightly from the cold air. Pulling up in front of the grocer, Alex eased the horse to a stop. "Chores first, Sun. Then we get to have some real fun."

Sun eagerly agreed, giving her mistress a bright smile as both women entered the merchant's store. "Good morning, Mr. Burns." Alex called as she approached the counter.

"Ah, Mrs. Holliday, hello, and I see you brought my favorite helper with you today." The jolly middle-aged proprietor gave Sun a flirtatious wink, causing her to giggle with embarrassment. "What can I get for you today?"

"Everything, Mr. Burns. I'll take two of everything." Alex joked. "Dr. Holliday's parents are expected in two days and my cabinets are empty. She handed the proprietor her list.

"Only two of everything today." He grinned while scanning her requests. "Such a light shopping before Christmas. As I recall, the last time our good dentist entertained his family you practically emptied my store."

"I was nervous, Mr. Burns." Alex replied with twinkle in her eye. "Now I am merely overwhelmed and out of time."

"Yes," he quickly agreed, "two young boys will do that to a woman." He waved her list in the air, "I will have everything sent out first thing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Alex exclaimed, a crease of worry evident on her brow. But…"

"I hope that won't be too inconvenient, Mrs. Holliday. I'm short handed this week, with only one delivery boy. Billy McCormick is sick with a fever and we are all very worried."

"Oh, dear. Has the doctor been called?"

"Yes, the poor man. It seems winter is here and with it comes colds and fevers. I hear Phil Cunningham is also ill and bedbound."

"Mr. Cunningham too?" Alex mused, her face suddenly pale from the bad news. "Tell me, when did Billy take ill? I saw him only last week and he was fit as a fiddle."

"He collapsed last night after finishing his deliveries." He shook his head, deep in thought. "He must have been coming down with something when he arrived to work yesterday, because he only had two deliveries: one to the Inn down the street and the other to Miss Lauder."

"Ms. Lauder…"

"The new seamstress who works for the Cunningham's," he quickly added. "Lovely woman, truly lovely. Lovely…"

His face suddenly took on a soft faraway look, eyes unfocused, his mouth drooping slightly. For a moment Alex thought he was having some kind of epileptic fit, but as quickly as the episode appeared he suddenly snapped out of it and was himself again. Wondering if it just her imagination, Alex passed a quick glance at Sun and judging from the wide-eyed expression on the other woman's face she too was just as startled by the merchant's sudden transformation.

Shaken by the bad news and Mr. Burn's abrupt lack in concentration, Alex quickly excused herself and headed for the door. "I'm in no hurry, Mr. Burns. Tomorrow morning is just fine. Thank you."

"Fun now, Miss Alex?" Sun asked once they stepped outside.

"No." Alex replied while scanning the street thoughtfully. "There's something I need to do first, Sun."

"I was afraid you would say that." Sun mumbled as she followed her mistress down the sidewalk.

Cunningham's clothing store was two blocks down on the opposite side of the street. Alex left the horse tied in front of the grocer's store, and with a brisk step that had very little to do with the cold and more to do with the nervous tension in her stomach, headed directly to meet Ms. Lauder, the town's new seamstress.

Stopping just outside of the store, Alex reached under her skirt and pulled free a small knife she always concealed in her boot. "I need a reason to go inside, Sun. Whatever I do or say, play along with me. Understand?" Snapping the blade open she slipped the tip under the edge of her leather glove and made a three-inch cut.

"What is wrong?" Sun asked.

"Maybe nothing." Alex replied. "Then again, maybe something really, really bad. We're about to find out."

Chiming bells announced their entrance to the store. Pausing just inside the threshold, Alex slowly looked around noting the bolts of colorful cloth, shelves of fashionable hats and gloves to accompany the newly made outfits. There was even a small display of tasteful jewelry to accessorize any frazzled customer. Next to the counter on the opposite side of the room stood a small clothing rack draped in finished merchandise and waiting for the customers to pick up. Small notes of paper were pinned neatly to each article marked with the owner's name. Curious as to who might be patronizing the store, Alex wandered over and began to read the labels. The third outfit she came too was tagged "A. Earp."

"Bloody hell." She hissed under her breath as she lifted the dark blue dress from the rack. It was the dress Allie had purchased during Virgil's last business trip when he and Morgan had gone to New York to look at some new horses. It was an evening dress, with a low neckline to bare delicate shoulders, puff sleeves that tapered tightly to the wrist and waves of fabric that would cascade to the floor. It was the skirt's length that Allie needed altered and Alex remembered that Virgil had offered to carry it into town to have tailor's assess the alteration. Had Allie forgotten to pick it up or did she purposely leave it here because she suspected her husband was having an affair with the new seamstress?

"May I help you?"

The soft husky voice jolted Alex from her deep thoughts. Turning quickly, she came face to face with Ms. Lauder.

She was tall – four inches taller than Alex was – with a thin build that only added the appearance of height to her physique. Her face was a delicate oval shape with high cheekbones, and large dark-brown eyes that angled upward at the edges giving the woman a sensual sexual air. The smooth skin of her cheeks flowed flawlessly into a small pert nose. Her complexion was complemented by soft full lips that any man would find fascinating. Every curve, every budge under the woman's clothing was perfection. Her waist was neither too fat, nor too narrow. Her breasts, full, round, slopping gently upward at the tips were inviting. Ms. Lauder wasn't just pretty. No sir. Ms. Lauder looked like a goddamn super model.

_Bloody fucking hell_, Alexis thought, _I must not have gotten a good look at her the first time; I don't remember her being this attractive. No wonder the men are talking about her. But why on earth would John say she wasn't attractive when she obviously was? _

Jerking her chin a notch higher she prepared to address her newest nightmare, but before she could issue some form of feminine snobbery, she felt Sun's hand latch onto her elbow with a death grip. Turning to see what the other woman wanted, Alex noticed servant was staring at the seamstress, her face sheet white, eyes wide with pure terror. Alarmed, Alex clasped her hand over Sun's and could feel the tremor running through her friend's body. "Sun?" She whispered, but the oriental woman only continued to stare while taking a defensive step to stand behind Alex.

"Can I help you today?" Ms. Lauder asked again stepping in closer this time.

Determined to act as normal as possible Alex pushed forward with her plan. "Yes. I was hoping you would be able to mend my glove." She lied while offering the article to the seamstress. "I tore it on a nail."

When Ms. Lauder reached forward to accept the glove, Alex caught a whiff of the woman's overpowering sweet perfume. _Well_, she thought, _that__ stink has got to be a turn off._

"I'm afraid the dress you're holding is not for sale." The Lauder woman replied with a level gaze before glancing down at the glove.

"I know." Alex remarked just a little too curtly. _It belongs to my best friend whose husband you're fucking. _"Mrs. Earp requested that I pick it up for her."

This statement seemed to take the seamstress by surprised. She looked up quickly, Alex's leather glove temporarily forgotten. "Oh? I…"

"I intend to settle the bill, of course, so there's no need to be concerned." Alex continued letting her proper English accent dominate her speech with an air of superiority.

A small spark of temper flared in the seamstress eyes before she quickly looked away. "I wouldn't presume." She murmured, "It's just that Mr. Earp was schedule to pick it up tonight…"

"His plans have changed." Alex countered sharply while staring the other woman directly in the eyes with a silent challenge.

This time the Lauder woman stared back and Alex felt Sun's fingers dig deeper into her arm with a painful grip. She's warning me, Alex realized, but it was too late. The gauntlet had been tossed; her flag of defiance was now waving bravely in the wind. Who or what she might be fighting was not entirely clear at the moment, but there was something definitely off about the Lauder woman, she could feel it. Something cold and hungry laced with the stink of flowers from a dead man's funeral.

The seamstress narrowed her eyes sharply and tried to cover her anger with a false smile. "I'm sorry, but we haven't been introduced yet. I'm Mara Lauder. I'm new in town, only just arrived two months ago." She extended her hand to Alex as if in an offer of friendship.

Alex gave the offered hand the briefest of glances but remained unmoved. "I'm Mrs. John Holliday. Mr. and Mrs. Virgil Earp are my good friends and neighbors." The sleeve on Alex's arm was jerked into a twist along with a good chuck of her skin. _Cool it, Sun_, she thought, _I have no intention of backing down. _

Mara's hand hovered in the empty air before she lowered it, issuing a cold smirk in its place. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Holliday. I'm told your husband is an excellent dentist. I hope his appointment book is not too full I have need of his services and plan to schedule a visit very soon."

_Was that a threat?_ Alex raised one brow and looked the other woman over carefully. _Yes, I believe it was._ She smiled back, showing off an even set of white teeth. "Please do. You won't find a better man within the county to yank out rotting teeth. He's also good with tooth care instruction, Ms. Lauder. If your teeth are troublesome, perhaps you should schedule some extra time to receive instruction."

Her barb hit home. With silent glee Alex watched a vibrant flush spread across the woman's face as she struggled to contain her anger. "Thank you, Mrs. Holliday. I will take your advice to heart. Now about your glove…" She toy with the soft leather between the fingers of her hand, smoothing the wrinkles. "I'm afraid the tear is beyond repair. It happens sometimes when an item is used too hard; it simply cannot be saved. I suggest you purchase another pair." Slowly she extended her hand.

"Oh, what a pity." Alex pouted while retrieving the glove from her hand. "But it is of little matter. Gloves are incidental when compared to the more important things in life."

"Such as?" Mara asked.

"Why, true love, family and friendship, Ms. Lauder." Alex replied. "They are the only things in life worth fighting for, of course. Surely, you know this?"

Unsure how to reply, the seamstress reached to take the blue dress from Alex's arms. "I'll box this up for you, Mrs. Holliday."

"Thank you, Ms. Lauder, you are too kind."

Once outside, Alex quickly ushered Sun down the street toward Doc's dental office. "Don't say a word until we're far enough away." She warned.

Stopping just before the hand-painted glass door inscribed with "Dentist, Dr. J. H. Holliday, D.D.S", Alex wrapped her arms around Allie's boxed dress, while resting her back against the building in an attempt to control the nervous tremor running through her body. "Bloody hell, Sun. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Her face still pallid Sun looked back at her mistress in awl of her bravery. "That woman is a mèi. An evil spirit." She gasped.

"She's a succubus." Alex clarified in a calm thoughtful voice. "That would explain a lot. I've no doubt her new and improved looks are connected to Billy McCormick and Phil Cunningham's illnesses. Oh, bloody fucking hell! And I just gave her cause to come after my husband. Not to mention, Virgil who is probably under her spell."

Sun rapidly nodded. "The men…they must not smell her; it is how she lures them, like a flower to the bee."

"Flower from hell, you mean. She must emit an overdose of pheromones; like a sex drug."

Again Sun nodded. "After a man is poisoned she will consume his every waking thought. The idea of mating with her will grow like a sickness until they seek her out. All the mèi has to do is wait for the victim to come to her so that she can feed off of them.

"How did you know what she was, Sun?"

"As soon as we walked into that store I recognized the smell. A mèi is an old spirit in Chinese culture. In my father's village lived a mèi, who entranced several men before the women came together to stop her evil. Sadly, three men died before the spirit was killed. This spirit is old and clever, Ms. Alex; she has chosen several men to feed off of a little at a time, so that she doesn't kill them too quickly."

"Died? Good Lord. Of course, she'll feed off of their life force until they die. How do I stop her, Sun?"

The young woman's face became electrified with fright. Stepping forward she took her mistress by her hand. "No, Ms. Alex, you mustn't! If Dr. Holliday should find out he will be so mad. Please, let us go to the church and call for help."

"No! I can't do that. I don't want the parish priest to know who I am. Beside, there's no time, Sun. Mara has to be stopped tonight. You must tell me what I need to do!"

"But your husband…"

Alex narrowed her eyes sharply. "Dr. Holliday isn't going to find out, because you're not going to say anything and neither am I. I'm still a Guardian and I'll be damned if I'll call for help like some powerless housewife. Now, tell me how to stop her." She emphasized her last sentence with firm shake to Sun's arm.

Sun sighed loudly. "With salt and fire. Salt to imprison her, and fire to send her back to hell where she belongs."

Alex nodded absentmindedly as she worked out all the details in her head. "Right. Sounds simple enough. We have lots of salt in the smokehouse that I can use.

"How will you stop Dr. Holliday from finding out?"

"One thing at a time, Sun. First, I need to keep him busy working and far away from Ms. Lauder's clutches." She smiled warmly at her trustworthy servant and friend as an idea took shape. "Sun, when was the last time you had a toothache?"

Sun issued a short curse in Chinese before she took a step backward. "No. Anything but that."

"It's the only way." Alex replied while hooking her hand under Sun's arm. "Just keep him within your sight at all times. When he's done work for the day ride home with him."

"And what will you do while I'm being tortured?" She snipped.

"I'm going to pay a couple of sick calls so that we don't have to attend any funerals next week and then I'm going to find Virgil."

"He'll be determined to see her. So determined he'll be dangerous, Ms. Alex."

"Not a problem. I believe I can still punch and kick just as well as I used to." She replied while ushering Sun through Doc's office door.

"Mrs. Holliday, how nice to see you." The receptionist called in a cheerful voice.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Harmon." Alex replied to the elderly woman sitting behind a large mahogany desk in Doc's front office. "How is your new position with my husband working out? Is he being kind and considerate, or do you need me to straighten him out for you?"

Mrs. Harmon chuckled warmly. "There isn't a nicer, kinder gentleman in town, dear. I'm a very lucky working widow."

Mrs. Harmon's position as receptionist took form after Alex gave birth to her second son. The elderly woman needed the funds and enjoyed being active. Doc appreciated the assistance with his files, and appointments giving him additional free time to spend with his family. The arrangement worked to everyone's satisfaction.

"Glad to hear it." Alex looked over her shoulder to the closed door of Doc's examining room. "Is he with a patient?"

"Yes. It's been a busy day for the doctor. Would you like me to tell him you're here?"

"No." Alex replied, although she wanted nothing more than reassure her growing nervousness by renewing every touch taste and smell of Doc's body. "Don't disturb him, Mrs. Harmon. What I need are two favors from you."

Finely shaped gray brows pinched together as the other woman's head tilted with curiosity. "Just name it, Mrs. Holliday."

"Are you familiar with Mara Lauder, the new seamstress?"

Unconsciously Mrs. Harmon's face grimaced. "Yes, although I can't say I'm a client."

"No, Mrs. Harmon, neither am I, and I'd like it very much if you would make sure Ms. Lauder doesn't become a client of my husband. Can you do that for me?"

"Certainly! May I ask…."

"I can't explain, except to say that she has a hidden agenda I don't approve of."

"I see." The receptionist replied with narrow lips.

"I have every reason to believe she will be here today to make an appointment with my husband. If you could make sure she has to wait a week or even a few days…"

Mrs. Harmon held up her hand. "Consider it done, Mrs. Holliday."

Alex breathed a loud sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mrs. Harmon. My appreciation will be reflected in your Christmas bonus, you can be sure of that. Now for my second favor – here is Sun Li who has toothache that Dr. Holliday needs to address today."

The elderly woman glanced down at the appointment book and penciled in Sun's name. "I'm guessing that Sun will need an extra long appointment with the doctor?"

"Precisely." Alex answered while giving Sun a reassuring pat on the back.

After leaving Sun at Doc's office, Alex climbed back into her buggy and headed directly to the Cunningham's house. Being in his late sixties, Alex figured Phil Cunningham's life was in greater jeopardy than Bill McCormick's would be at the age of twenty-two. The tailor would have also been more exposed to the succubus and therefore in greater danger.

When she steered her one horse carriage up to the front porch she was met by Dr. Sims who was just leaving.

"Good Afternoon, Mrs. Holliday." His hand briefly rested on the rim of his hat before he reached up to help Alexis step down from the carriage. "Are you here to pay a sick call?"

"Yes, Dr. Sims." Alex replied while smoothing her skirts. "I heard about poor Mr. Cunningham and thought I would see if there was anything I could do. How is he?"

The good doctor turned away and glanced toward the house. "I'm not very optimistic, Mrs. Holliday. This fever is stubborn and refuses to yield to all my best treatments."

"Oh, dear." Alex replied feeling her pulse jump with anxiety. "Poor Mr. Cunningham. I wish I had gotten her sooner."

"Sooner? How could you have known he was ill? I only just found out myself last night. Still, Mrs. Holliday, a sick house is not the place for a woman with small children. I'm sure your husband would not approve. It would be best if you returned to your home. I'll convey your best wishes for you."

Before she could stop him, Dr. Sims managed to push Alex back toward the coach with the firm intent of blocking her from entering the house. Alex resisted and with as much grace as she could, sidestepped around the doctor. "Don't worry, Dr. Sims. I have a very healthy immune system as do my children. There is no need for alarm."

"But…." He reached for her arm holding her in place.

"Please, doctor. What kind of neighbor would I be if I ignored a friend in need? I just want to see if I can help, and then I intend to check in on Billy McCormick, whom I'm told is also ill."

The dark expression on the doctor's face deepened but he released her arm anyway. "That will not be necessary, Mrs. Holliday. William McCormick died a little over an hour ago."

"Died!" Alex felt her body sway and without the support of the doctor's hand she stumbled backward bumping up against the carriage wheel. "Dear Lord. What happened?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. From what I can tell, Billy had the same sickness Phil Cunningham has. I don't know what this fever is…. Maybe yellow fever or scarlet, I'm not sure. What I do know is that it's not safe for you to be in that house."

Alex placed a comforting hand over Dr. Sims's and concentrated hard, sending waves of calming reassurance through the doctor's body. "I'll be fine, Dr. Sims. Trust me."

He blinked and the worried expression on his face slowly faded. "Well… I still don't approve, but maybe if you don't linger too long inside, and remember to change your clothes and wash your hands when you get home."

"I promise. I'll only stay fifteen minutes."

"Good. Fine. Remind Mrs. Cunningham I'll be back shortly. I need to make arrangements for Billy's body to be picked up. God knows if we have the makings for an epidemic I don't want a contaminated body sitting around." He released her and turned away toward his own carriage. Once comfortably settled he issued another warning. "Fifteen minutes, Mrs. Holliday. Remember your promise."

Alex nodded farewell and quickly mounted the steps to the house more afraid with every step she took. _Dear Lord_, she prayed, _please keep my John safe_. With her shoulders squared, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The servant who answered the door had tears in her eyes and a wet soggy hanky clutched tightly in her hand. Alex issued a reassuring smile. "Good afternoon. Would you tell Mrs. Cunningham that Mrs. Holliday is here?"

Elizabeth Cunningham was a plump, handsome woman in her late to mid forties, some seventeen years younger than her successful husband. Her normally elegantly styled reddish-brown hair was only in slight disarray considering the circumstances. The wrinkles in her cotton dress told of long hours sitting by her husband's bedside when she greeted Alex in the foyer.

"Alexis." She gasped, closing her cool hands over Alex's warmed ones. "You shouldn't be here."

"Elizabeth, I had to come. What can I do?"

Mrs. Cunningham let out a small whimper before she managed to compose herself. "I don't know… I don't know. Nothing that Dr. Sims has tried has made the slightest improvement. And now William McCormick has passed. Alex, I'm so scared."

Alex wrapped a strong arm around her neighbor and eased her toward the stairs. "Let's take a look. We can say our prayers together, Elizabeth. Two voices are very loud to God's ears."

Nothing could have prepared Alex for what she witnessed in the Cunningham bedroom. The moment she entered the room, the sickening sweet odor of rotting flowers slammed her senses, forcing her to cover her nose. In the bed lay the wasted husk of Phil Cunningham. Once a vibrant full-bodied man, he was now half of his normal weight, wrinkled, gray skinned and wasted with fever.

"Dear Lord!" She gasped, causing Elizabeth to burst into fresh tears. "How long has he been like this?"

"It started six weeks ago. He kept loosing weight, which at first was a good thing. Phil was always a robust man, and Dr. Sims was constantly asking him to loose a few pounds. But then he stopped eating altogether. He would come home from work and drink, or sometimes he didn't come home at all. I kept at him to rest, to eat. He refused to listen. Everyday he looked worse, but he didn't collapse into his bed until two days ago." Elizabeth replied while placing a fresh cool cloth over her husband forehead. "He's only been awake a few times since then and…and… each time he asks for HER! He calls to HER in his sleep, demented, tormented unable to rest. He calls for HER!"

Alex didn't have to ask who Elizabeth was referring to. Quickly she unbuttoned her coat and tossed it carelessly over the footboard of the bed, before sitting on the mattress next to the sick man.

"If I wasn't a lady, I'd kill her. Take my husband's gun and shoot her myself. Oh, why did he have to hire that woman? Why?"

Phil Cunningham's fingers felt like dry sandpaper, the bones so prominent she could feel every one. Gently she held his hand and searched for…. What? She didn't know. What was wrong? _What has you so ill?_ She thought. _What was missing to make you well?_

"Talk to me, Mr. Cunningham. Tell me what I need to know." She didn't realize she had spoken aloud, but her strange words seemed not to faze Elizabeth who was too distraught to notice. His elevated temperature sent waves of heat steaming from his body, baking into Alex's skin. Accompanying that was the smell that was distinctly Mara Lauder. Phil's body was infused with the odor as if he had just taken a bath in the Lauder woman's sweat…

Her body jerked with a start. "Bloody hell," Alex snapped aloud, "I'm so stupid."

"Alexis? Is something wrong?" Elizabeth Cunningham asked.

A smile was entirely out of character for the moment, but Alex couldn't help the joy that spread across her face. "No, Elizabeth. Everything is going to be fine. Just fine." She assured the worried woman. "Let's bow our heads and say our prayers. Something tells me your husband will be well enough to eat some soup for supper tonight."

Obedient, and inspired by Alexis's positive thoughts, Elizabeth knelt by the bed, folded her hands and began to pray.

"Hail Mary, full of grace.  
Our Lord is with thee.  
Blessed art thou among women,  
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

Alex also lowered her head while holding tightly to Phil's hand she placed her other hand palm down on his chest and joined in on the comforting Catholic prayer.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God,  
pray for us sinners,  
now and at the hour of our death."

According to Sun the mèi lures her victim and then drugs him. The stink was caused by the succubus's overwhelming pheromones in Cunningham's body. Acting like a poisonous drug, it was preventing his system from replenishing itself, wearing his body down until it killed him. Alex was pretty sure if she removed the pheromones, Phil's natural immune system should start to rebuild itself again. More importantly, without the pheromones, he would be free from the Lauder woman's control.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Cunningham was sleeping peacefully, feverless, and free from all contaminates.

Elizabeth placed her hand across his forehead to test the temperature of his skin. "Oh, God, Alexis, I think it worked. It's a miracle." A wave of fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she gently caressed her husband's thin face.

"That's the power of prayer, Eliza. Now, listen very carefully…. I want you to bath your husband from head to toe with good strong soap. Take his bed clothes and linen and burn them."

"Wash a sick man? Are you sure, Alex?"

"Very sure," she replied with a stern nod, knowing that the odors from the pheromones needed to be destroyed. "You must remove the remains of his sickness from his hair and skin. Then burn his things outside in the yard. Do you want me to stay and help you?"

"No, I can manage." She smiled with relief. "I've been feeling so helpless these past couple of days it will be a pleasure to have something constructive to do."

Alex nodded. "Everything on the bed must go." She repeated while reaching for her coat. "When he wakes up make him take a little soup and lots of water, and I guess I don't need to tell you he should stay in bed for at least a week."

Elizabeth nodded and chuckled softly. "Even if I have to sit on him. Thank you Alexis. I don't know how you did this but…"

"I did nothing, Elizabeth," Alex lied smoothly, "God is the miracle worker, not I." They walked to the front door together when Alex paused wondering how to broach the next item on her growing mental list. She looked about the foyer before asking, "I haven't seen Rodger, Elizabeth. I hope he's not ill too."

The older woman's lips narrowed slightly accompanied by subtle shake of her head. "No, my son is well. Ill behaved perhaps, but in good health. I sent him into the barn to clean out the horse stalls."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I, Alexis." She sighed loudly more from exhaustion than emotional strain. "Just like my husband, my only child is more concerned with a common seamstress than with his own family. You would think he would want to sit by his father's sick bed, but all he wanted to do was see her! I punished him and sent him to clean the barn, hoping some physical labor would keep his mind occupied."

"Ah," Alex nodded with understanding, "Well, if it's all right with you, I'd like to ask him to water my horse before I start for home."

"I'll ask one of our servants…

"No," Alex interrupted with a wave of her hand, "You have enough to worry about. Go see to your husband, Elizabeth, and I'll get Rodger to help me with my horse."

The Cunningham's son, Rodger proved to be in a less than helpful mood. Luckily, the boy wasn't to far under Mara's spell and had followed his mother's orders to clean out the stables in the barn. Pausing at the doorway, Alex listened while the young man grumbled to himself about his misfortune and tossed pitchfork after pitchfork of soiled hay into a wheelbarrow. Broken bits of his dark conversation floated across the barn settling once and for all any doubts Alex had about the boy's physical condition.

"I can't believe I'm stuck here… leaving Mara all alone... she needs me… I want, I need her… she's mine! All mine!" He punctuated his last two statements with downward jabs of the pitchfork, striking the wooden floor with enough force to startle the horse within the stall. The animal whinnied, and sidestepped to the back of his pen.

The cry of distress seemed to snap him out of his dark thoughts. "Easy boy." Rodger soothed the pony with a gentle hand. "I've no hard feelings against you."

"Well, if not the animal, then with whom?" Alex asked from just beyond the young man's shoulder.

Startled, Rodger let loose a loud cry and turned sharply, pitchfork still in hand, but Alex was ready for him, grabbing him quickly by the wrist. Her bare hand made direct contact with his smooth skin and before he had a chance to react she immediately set to work.

"You've gotten yourself in quite a pickle, Rodger, haven't you?"

Transfixed by the effects her healing was having on his overly stressed system, the boy stood perfectly still; wide-brown eye stared unfocused back at Alex. "It seems I've come not a moment too soon. Why, a young boy such as yourself should be interested in pretty young girls and not some witch from hell." With her free hand, she took the pitchfork from him and let it drop to the floor.

The stench of rotten flowers began to seep heavily from Rodger's body, choking Alex with every breath she took. Gently, she led him out of the stall and over to a clean pile of hay and eased him down into its depth. "Rest here for a spell Rodger and when you wake up I want you to go sit with your mother and father. Do you understand?"

"Sure." He murmured before drifting off to sleep.

The cold air was like milk to a starving child when Alex stumbled out of barn. Gasping, she leaned against the carriage wheel, drawing one deep lungful of fresh air after another, clearing the putrid smell of dead flowers from her nostrils. "I'm afraid fresh air won't be enough to freshen my personal hygiene." She told the horse. "I'm going to need to bath and then burn my clothes when I get home. Especially before I come face to face with my husband."

The horse nickered in reply.

Alex slipped the reins free from the post she had tied them to and pulled them over the horse's head. Again the mare nickered and shook her head violently. "Yeah, I know. I stink." Alex grumbled to the animal. "You don't have to rub it in."

She began to feel the effects of two extensive healings as soon as she settled into the buggy. Never had her home looked as inviting as it did when the horse trotted up the front drive. _Just a few more details to attend to and then you can rest girlfriend_, she silently coached. Swinging the buggy around to the barn she noted that Doc's horse was not in his stall, which meant he was still at work. _Or lying in the arms of that hell witch and you just lost your husband._

"No!" She said aloud, making a mental effort to calm her frayed nerves. She wouldn't allow her dark fears to run amuck. Doc was safe and in the care of Sun Li. Most likely they were both in his carriage and on their way home "And I smell like a French prostitute." She told her horse while unhitching her from the carriage. "It's time for a bath."

If Mrs. Li had any qualms about Alex's orders to burn her clothing she never said. Without fail the woman scooped up the cape, dress, petticoats, stocking, corset and shoes and took them outside to dispose of in the large barbeque pit outback while Alex filled the claw foot tub with hot water, soapy bubbles and began to scrub the stench from her body. By the time Doc and Sun arrived home, she had finished her bath and was stretched out on the bed napping.

* * *

Dr. John H. Holliday spent two exhausting hours working on Sun Li's teeth. Twenty of those minutes were spent silently stewing over the inconvenience his wife and servant had caused to his office schedule. Why his adorable wife would deposit a servant in his waiting room without so much as a by your leave greatly vexed him. But what hurt him more than the extra work was that Alex hadn't even bothered stop to say hello. She breezed into his office, issued instructions for him to take care of Sun and then she left to continue her uninterrupted day of shopping.

He would need to work extra hours tomorrow to reorganize three of his previously appointed time slots that Mrs. Harmon had cleared to allow him the time to spend with Sun. He cursed softly again as he replayed the afternoon events in his head. Three of his schedule patients had been booted out of their appointments and his wife couldn't even pay a short visit, and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Alex would have a lot of explaining to do when he got home.

"Oh, make no mistake….," he mumbled under his breath while shrugging on his coat and hat. "I'm damn putout."

"Sir?" Sun asked while following Doc out the office door.

Her quiet intrusion on his thoughts only grated his nerves more. Turning to cast a dark look at the oriental servant, he noticed for the first time the protective hand the young woman held over her slightly swollen cheek, and the pallor of her complexion. Instantly, his shame took charge, pushing his anger to the background. Reaching to take a protective hold of Sun's arm, he helped her step into the carriage. "It's nothing, Sun." He sighed softly. "Let's go home. I need a drink and you, young lady, need an ice compress."

"Thank you, sir." She mumbled with a weary groan.

Doc turned the carriage around in the crowded street and snapped the horse into a quick trot, his mind fixed on home and hopefully the warm welcoming arms of his wife and children. Only Sun noticed the tall-dark form of Mara Lauder lingering two doors down partially concealed by the cool shadows of the setting sun, where she had been waiting and thankfully missing her chance to secure her next victim. _Miss Alex was right_, she thought. _That __mèi must be stopped tonight before she hurts anyone else._

* * *

The warm hand sliding across Alex's shoulder and then down her arm was invasive, disrupting the soothing dream she had slipped into.

The fantasy playroom where she had been stacking wooden blocks side-by-side with John, Jr and baby Alex suddenly filled with menacing shadows and whispered threats. A cool wind blew through the room causing her to shield her children with her arm as she looked rapidly around for the source of trouble.

Movement just beyond the corner of her eye startled her and she gasped loudly with fright. Without further thought, both boys were instantly scooped into her arms, her heart banging painfully in her chest, she stepped backward until the wall halted her progress. _Trapped_, she thought, _we're trapped_.

Sensing their mother's anxiety, both boys began to cry, unsure who or what was causing her to clutch them so tightly. Wanting to calm the children, Alex tried to sooth them with soft comforting words, but all that would come out of her mouth was a squeak of terror.

Too late she realized she needed to get out, get free; to run for the nearest point of safety. On either side of the room the shadows pressed in against her, threatening, advancing. Realizing she was unable to fight, the weapon in her boot useless with her babies held in her arms, her squeaks of fright turned into a moan of terror.

When the first shadow tugged sharply on her arm in an attempt to rip her children from her grasp she screamed; but not for God, or the Mother Mary. She screamed for the only savior she knew, screamed loud and long for his help. "JOHN! JOHN!"

The tug on her arm increased. Baby Alex had been almost torn away. Again she increased her hold, jerking her body around and away from the thing in the dark. "John!" She called again.

"Here he is." Purred a seductive reply.

Advancing out of the darkness was Mara Lauder, leading Doc by the hand. His face vacant of all thought, all recognition, but for the empty smile he held for the seamstress. "How careless you were with your true love, Mrs. Holliday, and now I've made him mine."

"No." Alexis moaned. The pain-filled panic in her chest rushed straight into her throat, sealing off her breath. "John. Oh, God, no. Nooooo…." She screamed, over, and over, and over.

The glass of cold water splashed on her face instantly had her awake, gasping and swinging with a closed fist at the nearest target.

Doc felt a solid blow land against his ear. There was a pop inside his eardrum, followed by an instant high-pitched squealing sound. Shielding his ringing ear with his hand against further injury, he leaned backward and ducked under the counter swing of Alex's other fist.

"Goddamn it!" He hissed loudly. "Alexis, will you please wake the fuck up!"

"Oh!" She squeaked while sitting upright and blinking rapidly to clear her vision. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry!" She cried when she noticed John cradling his ear. Her fingers only made brief contact with his cheek before Doc jerked away from her reach and stumbled off the bed.

"Ouch!" He hissed again, bending over slightly from the sharp pain in his ear. "I think you broke my eardrum."

"Oh God." She yelped while holding her hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry. Really I am."

"Yeah, me too." Groaning, he continued to press two fingers against his ear as he walked across the room to the decanter of scotch sitting on a silver tray, filled a glass and tossed back half of the contents before turning to confront his wife. "Would you mind telling me what the fuck is wrong with you today?"

Ignoring his rising anger, Alex flipped a wet strand of hair off her face and motioned for him to step closer. "Come here so I can fix your ear."

"The hell with my ear. Answer my fucking question!" He snapped back, but walked over to the bed anyway. Easing down onto the soft mattress next to Alex he carefully looked her over. "Something is wrong. What is it?"

"Nothing is wrong." She lied while passing a healing hand over the side of his head.

"You haven't had a nightmare in over two years. Today had to be the worst bad dream you have ever had. Or the worst one I've ever had to deal with." Sighing with relief when the sharp pain and ringing stopped, Doc captured Alex's hand and held it tightly while noting the slight tremble coursing through her fingers. "I had a devil of a time waking you. When you started screaming my name I finally resorted to tossing a glass of water on you." He shook his head and frowned down at her. "Jesus, what reflexes you have. What spurred it on?"

Alex looked her husband square in the eyes and somehow remained calm and unassuming. "I don't know, John. Honest."

He leaned back and glared at her. "Nonsense. There has to be a reason…"

"Well, there isn't one." She interrupted. "It was just a bad dream. That's all." Scooting to the side of the bed she tried to make a clean getaway, but Doc placed a firm grip around her upper arm.

"You were frightened." He scrutinized, pinning her with a cold blue stare. "You're still frightened. I can feel you trembling, Alexis."

Rather than continue with her escape, Alex switched gears and leaned toward his body, rapping her arms across his shoulders. "I just clobbered by husband with a right hook that Wyatt would crow about. Of course I'm shaken." Warm, wet lips captured his mouth kissing away the anger she found there. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

John grunted in agreement, but he returned her kiss just the same. "I'm going to enter you into the next boxing match Wyatt referees."

"Poor baby. Let me make it better…" she crooned while slipping nibble fingers through buttonholes and under his waistband. "I bet I can improve your state of mind in just less than ten minutes."

"Hmmm." He groaned letting her hot hands travel where they may, eager for the peaks and valleys of pleasure she always gave him. With a flick of his wrist he emptied his glass and then let it fall to the floor. "The bed is wet." He said absent-mindedly. "And so are you."

With a good shove, she rolled him over and straddled his hips. "Oh, yes." She whispered passionately against his ear before licking the soft lobe of skin she found there. "I'm very wet. Wet, warm and wantoning." When he groaned she kissed him again, deep and hard, grinding her sex against his budging erection.

"Oh, God." He pleaded and sank his fingers into her loose hair pulling her in closer.

"Help me, John. Only you can help me."

"Alexis," he answered, "my infuriatingly complex, passionate, sexy wife." The silk robe she wore was easily pushed off her shoulders and down her back. "Lucky for me you're not dressed."

"I had a bath. See how soft and clean I am." Capturing his hand, she raised it to press his palm against her bare breast.

His eyes took in every aspect of her face, loving the warm flush that rushed over her skin whenever she was very aroused. "Yes, you are silky soft, smooth, lovely." The nipple he played with proved to be too tempting. He finally sat up and took it hard into his mouth.

Alex cradled his head, skimming her fingers through the thickness of his hair. "I'm silky everywhere from my bath, John."

"Was it a bubble bath?" He tasted the other nipple and found it was just as exquisite.

"Oh, yes, a bubble bath, to make my body silky soft… here," she guided his hand back and forth across the smooth skin on her stomach, "and silky there," his hand took a turn toward her hip. Alex wiggled against the palm of his hand. "And very silky here." Wrapping her fingers around his wrist she eased his hand between her legs until he was coated with her warm fluid. "Silk." She purred while rubbing her clit against the tips of his fingers.

A shudder coursed through him, making him feel lightheaded and dizzy. "Jesus." He groaned and what sanity he had left quickly fled.

* * *

"Poor Sun." Alex tipped the woman's chin upward to get a better look at the swelling in her cheek. A quick pass of her fingers over the bruised area eased the tenderness and inflammation. "How many cavities did you have?"

Sun jerked her head back in surprise. "Didn't he tell you what he did to me?" She practically screeched.

Alex winched with shame. "Sorry, we were, ah…talking about other things."

Sun raised an understanding eyebrow and huffed loudly. Turning away from her mistress she reached into the large oven to retrieve the dinner rolls.

"You're mad at me, I can tell." Alex asked while putting the finishing touches on dinner for her and Doc.

"No." Sun replied without looking up. "But I would have been except that woman was lying in wait outside Dr. John's office tonight. If he had been alone…. If I hadn't been there…" When she raised her eyes to look at Alex they were dark with anger. "You need to kill her and you need to do it tonight."

"I know." Alex replied looking way as she contemplated the steps she would have to take to sneak out of the house. "It's not the slaying that has me worried; it's my husband that will be the biggest obstacle. He's suspicious and senses something is amiss. For the moment his concerns have been smoothed by sex." Looking back at Sun with new determination. "But you're right, it needs to be taken care of tonight. Can you help me again?"

"Anything." She pledged, "as long as it doesn't involve my teeth."

"Billy McCormick is dead." Alex abruptly reported.

Sun gasped and uttered a quick prayer in Chinese. "And the Cunninghams?"

"Have been cleansed and are, for the moment, safe and sound. It's Virgil I'm most worried about. And then there's Tim Brooks, who is unaccounted for. God knows how many others." With a smooth practiced hand, Alex began to spoon tender filets of flounder, followed by spears asparagus and little round potatoes onto a dinner plate as she talked.

"What do you plan to do?"

She turned with a full plate grasped in each hand. "I'm going to eat my dinner, put my babies to bed and then seduce my husband, AGAIN. Once he's asleep, I'll need you to watch over Alexander and Little John until I get back. Do whatever it takes to make sure Dr. John isn't disturbed. If he wakes up to find I'm gone, all hell will break loose. Can you do that for me?"

Sun nodded. "But…. how will you handle Virgil. He will do anything she tells him to." She warned. "He might hurt you or even try to kill you… what if…"

"Easy, Sun. I have a plan. If things work my way, Virgil and I will be home safe and sound before the sun comes up."

* * *

All was quiet in the Holliday house. The stillness of the night air was so calm it almost hurt. _Peaceful_, Alex thought as she stood still as stone in the darkness of her bedroom. Dressed in black pants, black shirt, black boots and long black cloak she looked and felt every bit the Guardian she was. It had been too long since she last dressed like this, since she felt this way – strong, powerful, and deadly lethal. With another glob of guilt she realized the sensation was not unpleasant, but exhilaratingly alive.

From the bed, John's slow even breathing sent a rush of remose straight toward her stomach making her swallow hard to force down the urge to vomit. _He's going to find out what you've done and then he's going to be so fucking mad at you._ The mental warning made her cringe, but she steadied the sword at her hip to halt any noise it might make and made her way to the bedroom door anyway. Silent as the grave, she turned the knob, stepped through the doorway and entered her previous life, leaving her happy secure world hanging in the balance.

How mad would Doc get, was the main thought cycling through her mind. Kind of ridiculous really, to be more concerned with her husband's anger than the risk she was taking with Virgil's life as well as her own. She could die tonight. Virgil could die tonight, and then it wouldn't matter how mad Doc would be. His social and emotional status would be changed when they brought her broken body home for burial, leaving him no choice but to rage at her memory as a widower.

And what of my children? The worry left her paralyzed with fear and uncertainty. But wasn't it to protect her sacred world that she stepped once again into the role of Guardian. Wasn't it her sworn oath to protect and to serve? What could be more worthy than the welfare of her happy home? _No_, she told herself, _don't second guess your actions. Be strong. Be resolved_. A popular Guardian saying suddenly came to mind: _Weakness is the gateway for failure._

During her months of training Malachi had uttered those words to her over and over again, until she was ready to scream at him to shut up. But during one very important sparring match she hesitated, afraid of hurting her opponent. When her challenger flipped her violently over onto her back and quickly followed the motion by thrusting the tip of his sword into the tender flesh on her neck, Malachi's words suddenly made complete sense.

Weakness is the gateway for failure, were the first words she uttered after he offered his hand to help her to her feet. Malachi had only laughed and winked at her, tossing her a wet cloth to wipe the blood off her neck.

The next sparring match she won, leaving her opponent with the bleeding wounds.

_Be with me in spirit tonight,_ _Malachi,_ she prayed, _I need your strength and wisdom_.

She paused at the entrance to the barn, the emotions of the moment making her weak in her decision and in the course she had to follow. Looking back over her shoulder she gazed at the windows that led to her bedroom longing for just another moment to touch Doc's warm skin, smell the masculine aroma that lingered in the nook between his neck and shoulder. "I'll be back soon, my love. Sleep well until I return." Alex whispered into the night air.

Doc would never understand the level of commitment when it came to being a Guardian. He assumed she had retired from active duty, and in a way he was correct in that assumption. But a true Guardian was never far from the fight, never more than a heart beat away from leaping into the battlefront again. There was no real retirement. Evil always lurked, and a Guardian was always on the watch for any threat against the innocents he or she was pledged to protect.

The black stallion she chose for tonight's mission stood ready. All he lacked was his saddle to be tossed across his back and fastened. The steed snorted a greeting when he smelled her approaching. Alex shushed him gently, rubbing his soft nose in an effort to keep him quiet. "Are you ready Bronte? We have much work to do and very little time."

The horse shook his magnificent head, as if he understood each and every word she uttered, sending his long mane fluttering about. Pawing the ground with a huge hoof he let her know he was eager for tonight's mission. "Good, I'm so glad." She crooned while tightening the cinch on the saddle. Turning toward the back of the stall, Alex reached down past several bales of hay and pulled free the weapons she had hidden there; one handgun, her own, feeling more comfortable with her modern weapon than a pistol from this era, and two shotguns loaded and ready. Over the horse's shoulders she hung two bags of salt she had taken from the smoke house earlier that day. Into the leather scabbards she settled both shotguns, one on either side of the horse's shoulders. The pistol she tucked in the back of her pants, a feeling of comfortable security washing over her at the familiar feel and weight of the gun next to her body.

"Well Bronte, I'm ready. Let's get this over with." She led the horse down the drive and out to the main road before she mounted. All it took was a short jab to his sides and the stallion took off like a rocket, streaking across the landscape like a black shadow.

It was toward Virgil and Allie's house Alex steered him first.

The Earps neighboring houses lay within a half-mile distance of each other. An easy walk or a quick ride to care for the horses each day, but space enough to give each family the privacy they needed. It was almost like a small community and it was with that thought in mind when Doc and the Earp brothers picked out the thirty thousand acres of land they shared. Room enough for the horses and room enough to the four families to grow.

They were wealthy, there was no mistake about that, but they had no intention of giving off airs either. Each brother led a quiet simple life on the land they purchased. Only Doc chose to venture to town each day to be the doctor of dentistry he had always wanted to be. But even with the solitude of the horse farm, evil had found them, leaving Alex no choice but to cast aside her anonymity as a wife and mother and become the Guardian again.

When she peeked through the softly lit window, she knew immediately Virgil wasn't at home. There on the sofa sat Allie, head in hands, weeping, the soft mournful pitch of her cry caused Alex's chest to ache and only increased her determination to finish her mission despite how mad Doc might get. Leaving the horse tied out back she silently entered the house from the back door. Allie gave a soft cry of surprise when she first noticed Alex standing in the living room, but her surprise faded quickly to be replaced by fear as she eyeballed Alex's clothing.

"Dear God, not again…" She croaked softly as she rose to her feet.

Alex shook her head. "No, it's not vampires this time."

"Then what? And where is Doc?" She quickly asked while glancing out the window.

"He's home asleep." She waved away any other questions Allie might have had. "I don't have a lot of time, Allie. I need to know where Mara Lauder lives."

Just mentioning the seamstress's name set Allie's back straight with anger. "How should I know where she lives?" She turned her back on Alex and walked across the room to pour a glass of wine. "Would you like a drink Alexis?"

Alex stepped behind her and snatched the bottle from her hands, setting it back down on the elegant bar with a sharp bang. "You know very well where she lives, just as I would if another woman was fucking my husband. Now cut the pretense Allie and tell me where to find her."

Her face went chalk white, her knees weak, causing her to clutch the bar for support. "Is he… is Virgil?"

Alex grabbed her arm before she fell. "Yes, he's in trouble, all of our men will be in trouble if I don't kill Mara Lauder tonight. Quickly Allie, I don't have the time to explain right now. You have to trust me."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "It's two miles past the dairy farm. You'll see a little road break off just after you pass that big oak tree by the bend in the road. Go up that road and you'll see her house at the end."

"That far…. Shit that's got to be almost six miles from here. How did you…" She reconsidered her question and held up her hand to stop Allie from responding. "Never mind. Tomorrow, when everyone is safe and sound, you'll have to tell me how you found out where this witch lives and why you didn't come to me with your troubles. I'm your friend, damn it, you should have confided in me."

Tears that never fully left her eyes suddenly sprang to the surface, spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks. "I was afraid, Alex. I didn't want to make waves, like Mattie did with Wyatt. I didn't want Virgil to leave me for another woman like Wyatt would have done if Mattie hadn't been killed first."

Alex hugged her friend tight against her chest. "That never would have happened, Allie. Virgil loves you. He's just not himself right now. Mara has been controlling him. Under normal circumstances, there is no way he would leave you." Grabbing her about the shoulders she pushed her back to gaze at her streaked face. "Besides, I would have hogged tied him to a fence post until he came to his senses."

"Controlling him? How? What is she, Alex?"

"Something unnatural. I'll explain everything later." She turned sharply feeling her cloak fan out around her like a ball gown. "I've got to go. I'll be back soon with your husband in tow." She was just ten feet from reaching the back door when Allie stopped her with a sharp tug on her cloak.

"Wait! You're not going out there alone, Alexis. Why didn't Doc come with you…." Her hand flew to her lips. "Oh shit. He doesn't know, does he? Oh my God, Alex if he finds out he is going to kill you. Why didn't you tell him?"

"Because it would be extremely dangerous for him to come with me. Mara poses a threat to men, Allie, all men. Women are unaffected her charms."

"I'll help then." She stepped forward to grab her coat.

"Yes, help me," she held Allie still by the shoulders, "by staying here and stalling my husband if he should come looking for me. Wyatt and Morgan too. One Earp I can handle, but three is too much to manage. I'll be back as quickly as possible." Without another word she bolted out the door and onto the horse.

"Be careful, Alexis!" Allie called after her.

* * *

Mara Lauder's home was unexceptional. It was small, one story and plain. It was also isolated, and Alex knew that was why the succubus had chosen it. Once Mara had lured her victims into her home she could do as she pleased with them. And that was exactly what she was doing with Virgil when Alex peered carefully through the parlor window.

The room was brightly lit with a burning fire, and several oil lamps. From her viewpoint, Alex could see a well-worn sofa with matching chair, a chest of drawers stood against one wall, and a round table with two chairs. There were only two other doorways she could see, one at the opposite end of the parlor, which Alex assumed led to the bedroom, and the other doorway was to the left of the room no doubt leading to the kitchen in the back of the house.

In the center of the room stood Mara and Virgil in a passionate embrace. Lips locked, Virgil looked like he was seconds from physically consuming the seamstress. His body moved and quivered with passion against the succubus. His moans of pleasure were loud enough that Alex could hear him outside.

Mara's response was less energetic. Even though she held him, it was unemotional almost automatic, but with every calculated stroke, every deliberate touch, she was encouraging him, urging him on to new heights of sexual pleasure.

Revolted by the love scene Alex swallowed hard the bile in her mouth as she tried to determine the method Mara was injecting her pheromones into her victims. She held no bottle or syringe. There was no cloth nearby to wave under Virgil's nose. Glancing quickly around the room, Alex saw only an open wine bottle with two half-filled glasses sitting on the small dinning table. _Was that how she was drugging him? _She thought.

Ironically, it was Virgil who helped solve the mystery when he suddenly grabbed one of Mara's arms and began to lick the underside of her wrist. Barely visible to the naked eye Alex saw how the skin on the inside of her wrist was soft and gel-like, as if her skin had blistered and was now filled with oozing fluid. Suddenly, the fluid sack popped in his face and a glistening milky liquid began to seep out. Virgil moaned louder as the liquid seeped into his mouth, his body sagging against seamstress. Mara issued a soft throaty laugh that sent chills down Alex's spine. There was pleasure in the sound – a hungry pleasure that told Alex she was just minutes away from making Virgil her evening meal.

Stepping away from the window she was hesitant to let Virgil leave her sight, conflicted by the protective urge she was feeling for him and the logical course she needed to follow. One last glance at the horrifying scene made her heart skip with adrenaline. Virgil was still fascinated by the pheromones leaking from Mara's wrist, he had ceased his sexual pursuit and was busy rubbing her wrist over his face breathing in the hormone. _She's pumping him with her drug_, Alex realized, _getting him so doped up he won't know what's coming next. _

Mara's smile had taken on a wild hunger glare. She was running an affectionate hand over Virgil's chest and back, as if she was appreciating the good meal standing before her. Her hand suddenly dipped between his legs to grip his erection through his pants. Virgil cried out, his hips jerking against Mara's hand, all thoughts about her wrist forgotten while she tended to a more immediate need.

"My handsome fellow. Come now, come hard for Mara." Her hand rubbed against him in short jerking motions and Virgil's body suddenly stiffened, back arched, his mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy.

"There now." She crooned to him. "There's my good boy." Her hand motions had gotten slower, deeper as Virgil's body slowly relaxed. "Such a good feeling."

He sank slowly to his knees, a soft whimpering sound coming from deep within his throat. Mara released his crotch and once again let her wrist rub against his nose and mouth, sedating him even more. Gently she grasped his hair and bent his head back.

Alex bolted from the window, and flew to the horse. She pulled one shotgun from the scabbard, tucking it under her armpit before she whipped out her knife and cut one bag of salt free. Slicing a hole in the ten pound bag she began to walk quickly around the house surrounding the building in a circle of salt. Once the circle was complete she checked the window again and saw that Mara's appearance had altered drastically. Her human beauty had faded, leaving behind a gray withered being with pink sunken eyes, flat nostrils, and a large cone shaped mouth. Small razor like teeth jutted outward but were partially concealed by wide dark gray lips.

Alex knew she was witnessing a succubus in its true form. The human appearance was merely a shell, a mask. The more Mara fed, the stronger she became allowing her to enhance her beauty. With all pretense cast aside she was ready to feed; the only thing that still resembled the seamstress was the laugh. One withered hand held tightly to Virgil's hair, the other grasped him hard under the jaw holding his mouth open. Mara Lauder licked her lips and began to bend over Virgil's face.

Alex landed a solid kick to the backdoor sending it sailing open. With a loud bang, it slammed hard against the kitchen wall. She took five running steps through the kitchen before she got to the living room. Her entrance had made no impact on Mara at all. Intent on eating, her funnel shaped mouth hovered over Virgil's. A sound similar to a quiet vacuum cleaner filled the air right before a white mist seeped up and out of his mouth.

"Eat this bitch!" Alex screamed as she brought the rifle to her shoulder and fired one round. The rock salt pelts peppered the succubus's back and instantly began to smoke and hiss as the mineral began to burn into her skin. Mara's scream was primal in pitch. It filled the air with the sound of rage and pain that no human could ever make. She careened backward, releasing Virgil, her claw like hands flailing in the air in an attempt to reach the injuries in her back. Alex wasted no time by admiring her well-timed act, she dropped the gun by her feet and pulled her sword free.

"Mrs. Holliday. I should have known." The succubus gurgled with her odd shaped mouth. "You had just a little too much cock in your attitude for a normal housewife, but I can take care of that."

"Talking? You're talking?" Alex asked. "There's no freaking talking tonight, Mara. There's only blood and death." She brought her sword arm up high and swung. The first cut only passed halfway through her neck. Alex finished the motion with a backward spin, bringing the sword around again with more force this time.

Mara's severed head fell to the floor and rolled. The body waved back and forth, like a flag stirring in a weak wind. Right before it fell, the hands reached for Virgil striking him sharply on the head. Virgil tipped forward and landed on the palms of his hands. He wavered, rocking side to side still heavily under the influence of the pheromones, he appeared to be only partially aware of his surroundings.

Alex's initial thoughts were to get her friend outside and to safety, but she first needed to finish disposing of the succubus's remains. Turning away from Virgil she stepped toward an oil lamp burning on a small shelf and blew out the flame. She tapped the globe with the side of her sword and broke the lamp open. Flinging the hot oil in a wide arc, she managed to soak a large portion of the room. From the floor Virgil moaned loudly, falling forward onto his elbows.

"You're going the wrong way, buddy." Alex mumbled under her breath as she reached under her cloak for a match. "Virgil? Virgil can you hear me? You need to get up. Virgil get up."

"Get up, Virgil." Mara's disconnected head echoed from the floor. "Get up you piece of meat and kill her. VIRGIL!"

"Holy fuck!" Alex hissed and actually stepped backward from fright before she managed to get a firm grip on her fear.

A deep growl issued from Virgil. His head snapped up and slowly he pushed himself up off the floor.

"Virgil get her. Kill her. Kill her for me." The head continued to scream.

Virgil's growl grew in volume. He stared forward at Alex, shoulders hunched, hands clenching and unclenching in anger, he showed not the slightest sign of recognition when he lunged at her.

Alex managed to side step his attack. She dropped to a roll, moving beyond Virgil's reach, snatching the shotgun as she jumped to her feet.

"Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!" Mara screamed over and over again.

In a fluid motion Alex raised the rifle to her shoulder and fired, hitting Virgil square in the chest with the remaining round of rock salt. The impact wasn't enough to push him backward as a normal bullet would have, but the chemical reaction to the pheromones in Virgil's body caused excruciating pain. Screaming, he reeled, dropped to the floor and began to toss back and forth.

"Virgil! Kill her!"

Alex set her lips and turned toward Mara's head. "I said… No talking!" She kicked the head into the burning fireplace, snatched up a nearby lamp and sent it sailing directly into the hearth. There was a tremendous explosion, fire leaped everywhere setting the building instantly ablaze. Hungry flames raced across the floor, up the walls and onto the roof. Within seconds the house was an inferno.

Realizing she needed to get Virgil out before they were both burnt alive, she sheathed her sword and snatched the rifle from the floor. Grabbing her friend by the back of his collar began to drag him toward the back door. He offered her no resistance this time. Too weak and in too much pain to fight any longer. The bare wood floor made moving the injured man easy enough, but Alex wondered how many splinters Virgil would have in his butt as evidence of tonight's traumatic events.

Once outside, she deposited Virgil next to where she had tied Bronte. "Virgil?" She gently called, turning his head toward the light from the fire she gazed down at his pasty face. Pale and gray, his complexion and appearance mimicked Mr. Cunningham's with sunken eyes and sallow cheeks. "Oh, bloody hell, Virgil." Should she heal him here or try to get him back home first? Home seemed the best decision. Being in close proximity to the burning house made her nervous and if she should become too weak after the healing she would not have the strength to protect him should the need arise.

"Watch him." She commanded the horse. Leaving Virgil in Bronte's care, she raced to the front of the house to retrieve the horse he had left tethered to a tree, but the animal had somehow managed to get free and was nowhere in sight. "Oh, bloody hell!" Alex cursed and stomped back to where Virgil lay. _Now what_, she wondered. Virgil was much too big for her to lift onto the horse, and there was no material laying about that she could use to make a sled to haul him back to the house. Bronte was her only hope. If she could get the horse to knell, she might be able to drag Virgil's body across the saddle, then she could mount behind him and hold him in place.

"Okay boy," she crooned to the stallion, "can you knell down for me?" She tugged simultaneously on the bridle and his mane, and miracle of miracles, the horse obediently lowered his body to the ground. "You are a very good boy Bronte." Alexis whispered giving the steed an affection rub around the ears. "You can have your pick of any mare in the stables."

Bronte blew hard through his nose and nickered softly.

"Yes sir," She echoed, "any girl in the barn. Just name it and she's yours."

Alex hoisted Virgil's arm over her shoulder and tried to lift him across the saddle. Virgil groaned loudly in pain, head flopping backward, his mouth a gapping hole. After two tries she managed to get his arms over the horse. The bottom half of his body proved to be harder to handle, and much too heavy for Alex to move.

"Damn." She hissed, stepping back from the horse to get a better view of the ridiculous scene. "Virgil, honey, I hate to tell you this, but…. You stink, your clothes are filthy, and you weigh too much."

Bronte snorted in agreement.

Stepping around to the other side of the horse she passed a soothing hand across the animal's head. "Be patient with me Bronte, I'm trying my best." Reaching under Virgil's elbows she tried to pull him across the horse but only managed to move him a few more inches.

"You look like you could use some help."

"Ahhh!" Alex jumped and spun around, sword held straight out ready for battle, not knowing who or what was standing behind her. "Jesus Christ, Wyatt!" Alexis hissed, falling backward onto her butt.

He chuckled soft and low, beaming a wide toothy grin. "Did I scare ya?"

"I think I peed myself. Satisfied?" Struggling to her knees she went through the motions of brushing off the dust from her dignity. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped toward Virgil intent on helping his brother. "I came looking for him."

"Don't touch him!" She screamed throwing herself in front of Virgil while holding one hand out to stop Wyatt. "And step back. You shouldn't get too close."

He stepped back, brows furrowed, confused by her reaction. "Alex…"

"He's contaminated. I haven't cleansed him yet… wanted to wait until I got him home."

"Contaminated? Does this have anything to do with Mara Lauder?"

A growl of frustration escaped her lips. Leaning down once more toward Virgil she grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, braced her foot against the saddle and with one tremendous show of strength hauled his limp body over the horse's back.

"What the hell is going on, Alex?"

Capturing the horse's reins, she clicked her tongue signaling the animal to stand. She checked Virgil's position on the horse before stepping into the stirrup to mount behind him. "I'll tell you after we get Virgil home."

Wyatt reached up and grabbed the horse's bridle. "Does Doc know where you are?"

She frowned down at him. "No, he doesn't, and if you tell on me Wyatt, I'll personally make your life a living hell for the next month."

* * *

Allie knocked softly on the door before entering the guest bedroom of her large tasteful home. "Alex? Here… see if these will fit you." She sat down on the bed setting the cotton dress and shoes beside her.

Alex stepped out of the small washtub and began to dry herself with a towel. "Did you burn everything?"

"Yes." She sighed, weary from the night's events.

"He's going to be fine, Allie."

"Physically, yes, but what about the emotional trauma." Watching as Alex stepped toward the bed she held out the dress for her to take. "What if he wakes and still…"

Alex stopped buttoning the dress turning her attention toward her friend. "Still what, Allie?"

"He could miss her."

Alex snorted loudly and continued getting dress. "Not a chance. He loves YOU, Allie. Trust me, there was nothing charming about Mara Lauder not even before she let her glamour slip."

She nodded once as if the topic was concluded but tears of uncertainty filled her eyes. "Wyatt's still downstairs."

Alex rolled her eyes.

"He insists on speaking with you tonight."

"Well, it's going to be a quick discussion," she replied while running a comb through her wet hair. "I've got to get home before my husband finds I'm gone."

As if cued, there was a sharp rap on the bedroom door. "Alex, are you dressed?" Wyatt called with tone of irritation to his voice.

Stepping toward the door Alex whipped it open and with a dramatic bow gestured for him to enter. "Come in Wyatt, and let's get this over with."

* * *

The bright morning sunlight spilled onto the kitchen table illuminating the morning paper Doc Holliday was reading. Seated to his right, Alexis was helping Alexander eat his breakfast while John Jr. finished his bowl of oatmeal. Serenity and peace floated and lingered in the air.

Doc cleared his throat and took another sip of his coffee. "There's an engagement announcement for Tom Randell's daughter." He relayed, reading out loud the local news to Alex. "It seems she has set her heart on the, uh… Anderson boy…" He glanced up, waiting for his wife to feed him the forgotten name.

"Jason." She replied without looking up.

Alexander screeched with childlike glee and banged his hands on his highchair. Alex took advantage of the baby's open mouth and spooned him more hot cereal. "Yes, I heard last week that the engagement was soon to be announced. I have already penned a letter congratulating the happy couple. I'll mail it when I next go to town." Alex continued.

Doc chuckled softly. "You're so good at keeping up on these things, darlin."

"Just doing my job fulfilling the social obligations as Mrs. John Henry Holliday." She sighed and spooned another mouthful of cereal to the baby.

"He has oatmeal on his nose." Doc observed.

She looked over at her husband and offered him a seductive smile. "So do you." She teased and then laughed when Doc brushed his napkin against his face. "Besides," she continued, turning back toward the baby, "he likes oatmeal on his nose. Don't you, little man."

"Aaaah ga!" Alexander replied loudly, making both Doc and Alexis laugh.

Doc set his paper down and announced, "Morgan and I are still planning to get the Christmas trees today. Why don't you buddle the boys up and come with us? We could picnic in the woods."

Little John interrupted with a cry of glee, excited by the idea of a picnic in the woods and a freshly cut Christmas tree.

"We'll make a day out of it." Doc continued while stretching his hand across the table to cover hers. "I'm reluctant to leave you today." Smooth fingers slowly caressed the top of her hand. The touch looked affectionate, but Alex knew there was an underlining sexual air to his gesture.

She turned her hand over and threaded her fingers through his. "Oh, and why might that be?" Her flirtatious manner continued inviting him to probe into the private realm between a man and woman.

The warm seductive grin on his face grew. "Oh, it might have something to do with your extraordinary and captivating charms last night." He picked up her hand to brush her fingers against his lips, letting just the tip of her little finger slip into his mouth to suck.

Alex returned his smile. "If you keep that up I might have to mesmerize you again directly after breakfast."

"Indeed." He crooned.

A sharp rap against the backdoor broke the sexual atmosphere in the room.

"Enter." Doc called.

Alex's heart skipped several beats, fearful that Wyatt would come strolling through the backdoor and reveal all her previous night's adventure to Doc. She had been secretly holding her breath all morning, watching and waiting for doom to crack the harmonious atmosphere of her happy home.

Since rescuing Virgil the night before she had been lucky. Very lucky. After listening to her story about who and what Mara Lauder really was, Wyatt had decided not to wake Doc and tell him his wife was playing the Guardian again. "He's going to find out eventually, Alex. So, I suggest you get ready. Pick a time and place to talk to him, and be prepared for him to explode."

"You're going to tell on me?" She screeched.

"No," he replied in that calm steady voice that was so characteristic of Wyatt, "but Doc's smart, he'll put two and two together and then he'll come looking for answers. I won't lie to my friend and that's final. If he asks me I'm going to tell him the truth."

Sneaking into the house had also been a stroke of luck. After she checked in with Sun, she tiptoed back into the bedroom and found John was still sound asleep. The stress she had been holding back finally let loose after she discarded her clothing and slid into the bed next to her warm husband. The comfort of feeling his smooth skin pressed against hers was like a hammer breaking the wall she had constructed to hold her emotions at bay. The tears came hard, shaking her entire body. Quickly, she turned away from him and smothered her cries with a pillow until the surge passed. Moments later she was asleep, dreamless, waking an hour or so later by his impromptu love making. Spurred more by guilt than desire, she purposely enhanced their pleasure wanting to please him, and in a way to show him how sorry she was for her deceit.

Doc woke the next morning blissfully happy by several rounds of good sex, still ignorant of her escapades the night before.

Alex wasn't feeling as chipper. The lack of sleep weighed heavy upon her. Her guilt was even more pressing. Masking her condition with a magazine smile, she washed, dressed and cooked a family breakfast all in a fog of worry and stress, wondering how many hours, minutes, and seconds she had left before the bomb was dropped on her head. When the smart rap sounded on the backdoor she almost sighed with relief. Never one to play a liar, she knew she didn't have the stamina to carry the charade to the end.

_Get ready girl_, she thought, while keeping a death like grip on Alexander's baby spoon, _here comes Wyatt and there goes your happy husband for at least the next two weeks. Christmas is going to suck this year._

But it wasn't Wyatt who stepped through the door and into her nightmare. Actually, it was the last person in the world she thought would arrive to bear the bad news, but now that she thought about it, it made perfect sense.

"Rick Jacobs," Doc called out while folding the paper he had been reading and setting it to one side, he stood and shook hands with the local law. "What brings you out this way so early in the morning?"

Sheriff Jacobs nodded his head toward Alexis and took off his hat. "Morning. I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Not at all." Doc replied and waved the sheriff toward an empty chair. "What can I do for you? You're not sporting a sore tooth, I hope."

"No, no, no. Nothing like that." He offered in a soft voice, settling into the chair with obvious unease. His eyes followed Alex as she rose from the table to fetch a clean cup to pour the sheriff coffee. "Actually, I was looking for Virgil."

Alex let the cup she was holding slip. Fortunately, she was only inches from placing it on the table and the cup landed on the wooden surface without any damage. Righting the mug, she kept her eyes lowered while pouring the coffee. If she had looked up, and if Doc happened to catch her eye, he would see her fear showing. Playing the meek housewife seemed a quick and easy way to look anywhere but directly at her husband.

"Virgil's home I suppose." Doc answered. Looking at Alexis he tried to get her attention so that she could fill his coffee cup too, but she didn't seem to notice and had already turned way when he called, "Alex…"

Her heart slammed so hard against her chest it hurt. _Heart attack. I'm going to give myself a heart attack if I don't calm down. _

"….could I have a bit more coffee, please."

Without thought or change in her expression she rounded, filled his cup, then hers, before deciding to set the full pot on the table.

"I know." Jacobs admitted. "His wife tells me he's ill and is not receiving company. She was quite adamant and refused to let me see him.

Like the walking dead she eased back down into her chair and whispered to Little John, "If you're done eating, you may be excused. Go upstairs to play." _Time to clear the room_, she thought. "I'll be there in a moment."

"Are we going on a picnic?"

_Only if your father doesn't kill me first_. "I'll discuss it with daddy in a minute."

Reluctantly, the little boy climbed down from his chair and ran upstairs.

"What seems to be the problem, Rick?"

The uneasy sheriff rubbed a hand over his eyes and leaned back into his chair. "I was a farmer for most of my life, John. It was after my wife and child died that I took on the role as peace officer. Farming's no good when you don't have a family to provide for. I guess what I'm trying to say is…I'm new at this and well, what I discovered this morning is beyond my experience. I was hoping Virgil could give me a second opinion."

Confused by the lawman's unfocused discussion, Doc cast a quick glance at Alex hoping she might provide some insight. If she had any clue to what Jacobs was talking about Alex wasn't eager to share that information with her husband. She wasn't even looking in his general direction, but was instead busy wiping the baby's face clean from the remains of his breakfast.

"Aaaaah ga!" Baby Alex screamed again while his mother lifted him from his highchair. "Sally." Alexis called while walking across the room with her son.

Doc looked briefly at the bowl of oatmeal his son had been eating, wondering only if the child had eaten well. The half filled bowl confused him, but what sent a stir of alarm racing up his spine was the severely bent baby spoon Alexis had been using to feed their son. Mangled beyond repair, she had for some reason almost folded the soft silver spoon in half.

_Clear the room. Clear the room. Clear the room_. The message couldn't have been more urgent than if it had been flashing with neon-red letters on her kitchen wall. When Sally appeared Alexis quickly passed the baby to the servant. "Take him upstairs," she whispered to the girl, "Keep both boys occupied until I tell you otherwise."

Prepared to meet her doom, Alex walked back to the table and continued to avoid her husband's eyes.

Doc sighed with frustration and reached for the coffee pot. "Maybe I need more coffee, Rick, because you're not making a damn bit of sense." He topped off the sheriff's cup before filling his own.

"Mara Lauder's house burned to the ground last night with her in it." Jacob's blurted. "Not a thing remains standing. I was out at the site at dawn looking things over again before the curiosity seekers muck up the evidence."

"Evidence?" Doc mimicked. "You think someone meant to do her harm?"

"I… honestly I don't know. I don't know what to think. Her bones are burnt black, so there's no telling if she was killed first and then the house set on fire to cover the evidence."

"Houses burn easy enough, Rick. Who the hell would want to harm a seamstress?"

"I could name about six different wives in town for starters. Apparently Mara was too popular with the men. Rumors are she was bed hopping." He quickly turned to Alex and mumbled, "My apologies Mrs. Holliday, if my speech is too blunt."

Keeping her eyes on the sheriff Alex nodded her pardon, and motioned for him to continue his tale.

"Since Virgil isn't available, I was hoping you or Wyatt might be willing to give me a hand. You both were lawman once, and well, you've seen more than I have. Honestly, I could use a second opinion."

Doc frowned down at his cup, that stir of ease he had been feeling was beginning to whip around like a hurricane in his stomach. "Sure, Rick. I'll ride out to the Lauder house with you. I'm sure Wyatt would be willing to give you hand as well… but, I'm still confused as to why you so firmly believe it was foul play that started the blaze. A fire can have a hundred causes, a tipped oil lamp or a lose cinder for instance. Rumors are no reason to go looking for blame."

"True." He nodded, "And I would have agreed with that theory last night, until I noticed the ring of salt surrounding the house this morning."

It was quick. It was brief. A shot from Doc's gun couldn't have been more precise or as deadly. As soon as the word salt was spoken her husband's eyes cut sharply in her direction, cold and heated at the same time, it was a look she hadn't seen in more than four years. Since before their marriage. To be exact, not since the night Doc stumbled into her kitchen at the Oriental and found her seated at the table sharing tea with Johnny Ringo.

If looks could kill she'd be dead on the floor at this very moment.

With fluid ease, he focused back on the sheriff and finished the conversation by suggesting he summon Wyatt and ride out to the Lauder home. "I'll meet up with you momentarily. I need to take care of something first."

At those words, Alex felt her bladder threaten to give way. With effort she held her water and concentrated on easing the fear racing throughout her body. Would he beat her? Lock her in the cellar, or maybe someplace smaller, like the closet? _He's going to yell. He's going to scream bloody mother-fucking murder at you, girl, you can count on that_.

But what else would he do to her? What horrible dark Victorian punishment would he instill?

Whatever he said or did, she would endure it. She would humbly submit to her chastisement. She had disobeyed her husband, broken her promise and probably his trust. Whatever he did to her she deserved.

_If you do the crime, you do the time._

The soft click of the backdoor sealed her fate and started the clock ticking off the seconds she had left to live. She kept her eyes lowered, focusing on her trembling fingers resting in the deep folds of her skirt. His boot heels slowly clicked across the tile floor, stopping at the foot of her chair. Black pointed toes, intricate laced stitching in the leather, that was all she saw. That was all she wanted to see at the moment.

He reached out and touched the side of his finger to the bottom of her chin, tilting her face upward. With tremendous effort Alex restrained from flinching. His face was a mask. A new mask, one she had yet to see, yet to read and understand. His eyes displayed no emotion in their cold blue depths.

In a too calm, too smooth voice he uttered the first words to a very long, very heated discussion. "Let's go upstairs and talk, shall we?" He didn't wait for her answer. He didn't even wait for her to rise from the chair, he rapped his fingers around her upper arm and hauled her to her feet. Head and eyes erect, he stared forward, not glancing at his surroundings, not once did he look at her. He walked onward. Calm, controlled, for the moment, he moved through the house, down the main hall and to the front stairs. Alex realized later that he purposely avoided the back kitchen staircase so he didn't have to pass by the servant's rooms. Was he preserving her dignity, or his? She wasn't sure. What did it matter now?

Alex kept pace with his steps. Bravely she stayed by his side. She didn't struggle, didn't fight. Most importantly, she didn't cower. Head up, appearance calm, controlled, she went willingly.

Once the bedroom door was closed and locked, he lost it. He pushed her toward the bed and pointed sternly and silently, telling her to sit. "How? How could you?" How could you do this to me? To the life we made together?"

Doc stood back from the bed, too angry to sit on the other side of the room and too angry to stand within arm distance from where she sat calmly looking back at him. He struggled to maintain control over his urge to beat her bloody. "I ought to." He threatened, voicing aloud his inner thoughts. "Lord knows I'd be within my rights, my husbandly duty. I should beat you with my belt Alex. THAT'S how fucking mad I am right now!"

"Yes." She simply said before lowering her eyes to the floor. "I knew you'd be mad, and I did it anyway. I'm sorry, John, truly I am. There was no other way."

Silence strained the air between them. Alex knew he hadn't moved. He hadn't stepped left or right, or, thank God, forward. His boots told all, told her everything she needed to know at the moment. For the present, her husband was standing still, probably glaring down at her, but because she kept her eyes on his shoes she couldn't be sure.

Finally, the seconds weighed too heavy and she looked up. There he stood, dressed in black wool, suit coat pealed back and held in place with his hands braced on his hips, magnificent green and black silk vest, stark white shirt, black tie and the ever present diamond stick pin. His face was pale with anger, eyes the brightest blue, but not a hair on his head was out of place, and his lips… well, of course they were tightly strung, and barely visible under a full mustache.

Gorgeous was the first word that came to mind. Handsome wasn't good enough, and beautiful was just a little too feminine for John. No, the man was gorgeous, and his physical presence combined with his anger made her wet between the legs.

Her thoughts were shattered when she felt wet drops fall on her hands. She glanced down, confused about the source of water. Her skirts were splattered as well. Without thinking her hands flew to her face, feeling for the first time the tears she shed. Her weakness was showing, but would that ease his anger or make it worse?

"Please," she begged, "let me explain. Quickly, before he could object she told him what Mara Lauder was. That she had killed Billy McCormick and almost Phil Cunningham and most importantly how their dear friend Virgil was in extreme danger. She explained why she didn't confide in him, and that she feared for his life. When she told him how she snuck out of the house, his face turned violet red, almost purple and Alex knew he was using every ounce of his strength to control his rising temper.

"You broke your promise." He finally whispered after swallowing back his rage. Tears overran his anger and slowly his eyes filled up. "You promised me that you would never again sneak away when I was sleeping, Alexis. Do you remember? Do you remember the night I came for you; spoke to you from my heart and then brought you back to my room to stay in my world forever? I asked for your promise…" he swallowed hard, wiping the back of his hand across his wet cheek, "and you gave it to me. It was a very important promise, and now you've broken it."

"I know." She whispered back, wanting to hide her face with shame, but knowing it was more important to look him in the eyes, to not wound his pride anymore than she had. If she looked away from him now she would do just that and he would never be able to see her quite the same way again. The damage would be irreparable.

She continued her story, telling him everything, like confessing to her priest, but without being absolved of her sins. Confessing to John would instead plaster a large red "A" on her chest, and he would make her wear it until he felt better, until he could forgive her transgressions however long that would take - days, weeks, months, quite possibly years.

"God!" He spit, running his hands through his perfect hair, making it no longer perfect. The alteration didn't lessen the quality of his appearance one iota. "I can't believe Wyatt was in on this."

"No, he wasn't." She clarified. "Wyatt only agreed to give me the time I needed to talk to you. He never ever said he would lie for me, only that he understood why I did what I had to do." She paused, looking, searching deep within John's eyes, "I'm hoping, praying that you'll eventually understand. I feared for you. She was coming to get you and I couldn't let that happen. I would NEVER let that happen."

"Wyatt just happened to show up at Mara's house?"

"Wyatt suspected something wasn't quite right about Mara. Several other men she had been seen with were ill. Billy McCormick died. Wyatt was shadowing Virgil because he knew Virgil was having an affair. He just happened to show up after I lit the house on fire and dragged Virgil outside. We took Virg back to his house. I purged his system of the pheromones. Allie took my cloths out back and burned them while I took a bath. Then I came home."

"And got back in bed with me, had some earth shattering sex with your stupid husband to keep him distracted, is that it? Is there anything else?"

"Shit! For the past two days I've been wandering around like a newlywed, while you've been playing Guardian life and death games. When will it end, Alexis? Can you tell me this and not lie? Shit, are even capable of telling me the truth? Am I not good enough for you? Is this," he tossed his hands out wide indicating the house they lived in, "not enough. I thought this is what you wanted. That you wanted a normal life and me as a husband. And what of your children? What if something happened to you, what then? What kind of life would John and Alexander have without a mother!" He paused to catch his breath. "What would I do without you?"

"John." She squeaked, crying hard now barely able to form words through the flood of tears.

He moved, stepping forward and grabbing her so quickly she didn't have time to flinch. Instantly, she was hauled to her feet, his fingers digging painfully into her arms. She didn't resist or fight. If he wanted to beat her, if beating her would make him feel better, she would let him. If proving a point by physical means would advance the healing process so be it. Anything, anything at all she would give, would withstand, or forbear, she would do anything to wipe that heartbreaking look from his face.

"You're going to listen to me, to everything I tell you to do. Everything down to the fucking letter, or you leave Alex. You'll get the fuck out of my house and out of my life, because I'll be DAMNED if I'll sit here day-by-day wondering, worrying, about the next time you'll sneak out again. When you'll come home to me, body broken beyond your abilities to repair itself, lifeless, breathless, DEAD!" He pushed her down on the bed and continued to tower over her, ranting.

"There will be no more Guardian duties, no swords, no sneaking around, no hunting the things that go bump in the dark. You're finished. Retired. Fired. Demoted. Whatever you want to call it, but you are to never again be anything but my wife and mother to our children. Do I make myself clear?"

Panting, he waited for her answer, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

An ultimatum. This was something she had not foreseen. Choose between the two halves of herself? To be one or the other. In short he was asking her to decide which was more important, her love for him, or her life as a Guardian, and in deciding she must declare her decision out loud, making it final. No redos, no rewinds, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Make her decision now and live with it. Shoot, she couldn't even ask for time to think it over. That would only piss him off more.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Alex, do you really have to think about your answer?"

"Can't you just beat me instead?" She finally asked.

"I might just do both. I want an answer, now. Which will it be, me or the Guardians?"

"You." She breathed. "Always and forever, you."

Her words hung in the air, lingering and waiting for him to reach out, to pluck them out of limbo and except them. Finally after several more agonizing moments, he did, and then he sealed their bargain in a most unconventional manner.

With a quick sideways motion, his hand whipped across his waist pulling his leather belt free. Before she could move, squeak in protest, or cry harder, he sat on the bed pulling her facedown across his lap.

"John!" She pleaded, not fully aware of where the fear came from, but only certain she needed to get away from the punishment he intended to instill. "No!"

"Shut up, Alex. For once you're going to shut up and listen to what your husband tells you to do."

"Ahhhh." She screamed and squirmed against his lap, trying to roll free, but his hands were too quick. One rapped around her waist holding her prone, the other lifted her skirt over her head exposing her bare ass. "Well now, I see there's one request in which you honor me." He sneered making light of her lack of underwear.

"Don't you dare." She threatened but as the words were spoken she felt his warm hand slide freely across her rump. His touch lingered, caressing, admiring. "John, I'm warning you."

"No, I think you've got it mixed up. It is I who is warning you." Still, his hand continued it's gentle caress. "Seems a shame to mar such beauty."

Was he going to let her go? Alex couldn't tell. Couldn't see either with her skirt over her head. Her hands were useless too, burdened by the heavy material of her dress, she was unable to reach back and smack him.

"I've reconsidered. The leather of my belt is too stiff, too new. It might possibly cut you or raise a welt." His hand dipped inside her crack probing, seeking, and finding the territory welcoming and inviting."

He was going to let her go. She was sure of it. Sex is what he wanted now. He would try to hurt her with sex. He would fail miserably too, she was also very sure of…"

The hard sharp stinging pain from his hand took her quite by surprise. The first strike was quickly followed by several more, the blows evenly spaced, and rhythmic. They hurt. He was actually hurting her. Her husband wanted to hurt her and he was succeeding.

"Oh, I swear to God, if you don't stop I'll…. Ouch! Son of a bitch!" The slaps were getting stronger, harder, the skin on her ass was heating up, burning like it was on fire.

"You… are… to… stay… at… home. Take… care… of… my… children… and… put… that… fucking… sword… away… for… good!" Each word was punctuated by the firm slap of his hand. "Am I making myself clear, Alex?"

"Ohhh! Yes! Yes! Stop! Please stop!"

Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, when the tears spilling down her face began to pool in her mouth, when she couldn't think of anything but the burning skin on her ass, he stopped and slid his fingers deep between her cheeks instead. The sensation was so extreme, so abrupt, she screamed from the sheer pleasure he gave her. Wet she was, dripping wet, and the son-of-a-bitch knew it the whole time.

His hand moved back and forth, in and out, making her dizzy, making her ache in ways she had never ached before. The arm that had been gripped tightly around her waist to hold her still shifted, and brushed gently across her burning skin, renewing the pain, but only slightly and just enough. She cried out again, her orgasm hitting her hard, tearing, ripping, turning her inside out.

From far off she heard him laugh softly right before he leaned down and bit her hard on the ass.

Before she could recover, before her arms and legs lost their rubber band sensation, he flipped her over, lifting her off his lap and onto her back. Her skirts were still obstructing her view, but there was no mistaking the sound of fabric tearing open followed by the weight and warmth of his body pressed on top of hers. He entered her swift and hard, pumping against her for his own fulfillment and not hers.

She came again anyway.

When all was said and done. When breathing had returned to normal. When he insisted on pressing a cool cloth against her scolded skin. When they laid silently together on the bed, she wasn't sure how to feel, wasn't sure what to say. What would come next? Would he beat her some more and then make her scream with new heights of pleasure. Would he lock her inside and then go out, meeting Wyatt and Sheriff Jacobs at the burnt ruins of Mara Lauder's house? She didn't know. So she kept her silence, until he turned her over and kissed her slow and deep, lovingly, like a lover should.

It was his tears she felt wetting her cheeks this time. Her own long since dried up. "I love you. Do you understand that? Love you in ways and depths you can't possibly comprehend. If anything were to happen to you I would cease to exist, I'm sure of it. Our children would be left orphans all because you feel more loyalty to some ancient organization than you do to me. To us."

She took his face between her hands wiping what tears she could and not loose connection with his skin. "That will never happen. I'll never leave you alone."

"Then promise me one last time you'll put away you're obligations to the Guardians. Set them aside and forget they ever existed. I need to be first and foremost in your life, Alexis. Our life together depends on it. I need you more. Your children need you more. Why can't you understand that? Why?"

"I do understand, John."

"Do you agree to my conditions? Will you give me your promise?"

She leaned up and kissed his face, letting the salty tears linger on her tongue. "I do solemnly swear to never again take up my role and function as a Guardian." She whispered, kissing him in between the words, "But will devote my existence, my dedication, as your wife, your partner in life, and as a mother to our children. I will never sneak away from our bed to pursue dark unnatural things in the night. I will listen to your guidance and instruction, obeying your wishes at all times not because you order me to, but because you are my husband, my love, my life and I would be lost without you. Of this I do lay my highest promise, so help me God."

Her words seemed to resolve the conflict between them. His heartbreak relieved and the painful expression on his face faded. With a deep sigh, Alex finally relaxed, bursting into tears of relief, not pain.

He made love to her one more time before he went out to meet Wyatt and Rick Jacobs.

* * *

Doc found Wyatt lingering outside of the burnt remains. He had tied his horse to the same tree Alex had tied Bronte the night before. Slowly he wandered around the property. Every now and then kicking a chuck of charred wood with the toe of his boot, or stooping down to look at something closer that was hidden in the dirt. The warm breath expelled from the lawman misted in the cold air, mixing with the smoke from the cigar he had clenched between is teeth.

Doc eased his horse to a trot as he approached the property. He had come armed, prepared for the worst but looking at the meager remains on the grounds he knew his wife had done a very thorough job of dispensing the evil that has settled in her town.

_Damn her_, he thought, the stirrings of his earlier anger rising once again. It would be like that, his emotions would be unsettled for quite some time. Calm one minute and boiling the next, he would teeter back and forth over what Alex had done for the next several weeks. Does she have the slightest clue how upset she could make him? Probably not, he surmised.

He tied his horse next to Wyatt's stallion, a beautiful dapple-gray, at least sixteen hands high; the latest addition to the barn's growing collection.

"Wyatt." He punctuated his greeting with a nod. "Where did Rick go?"

A larger puff of smoke went sailing into the air as Wyatt withdrew the stogie. "He got called back to town."

"Is he coming back?"

"No." Wyatt answered without any hesitation. "I pretty much soothed all of his concerns. The investigation has been concluded. Rick's going to arrange a small funeral for what he supposes to be human bones and the remains of a woman called Mara Lauder. Truthfully, I doubt anyone will attend the service." Out came another puff of smoke. "I know Allie won't be going, and I know I won't be either."

Doc grunted and looked around at the burnt timbers. He could only make out bits and pieces of what used to be furniture. There lay the skeletal frame of a sofa. Next to it was part of a chair. And there at the base of the stone fireplace were shattered pieces of the oil lamp Alex had thrown. The fire must have been tremendous. "She could have killed herself and Virgil too." Doc spoke aloud. "Burned them both in the fire."

"Yeah, but she didn't, now did she."

Doc flashed a heated gaze at his friend and turned away before Wyatt could see how upset he really was. _There's been too much arguing today_, he thought. _I'm so damn tired and it's only half past ten in the morning._

"You mad at me, Doc?" Wyatt asked.

"Yes, Wyatt," he freely admitted, "I believe I am."

Wyatt nodded and puffed on his smoke again. "Understandable." He agreed. "I'd be mad too."

"You taking her side, Wyatt? Against me?"

"No, Doc. But I understand why she did what she did. And…" He paused mauling over the right words in his head before he pissed off his friend even more. 'I'm not emotionally involved the same way you are. How you're feeling right now is perfectly understandable, but what Alex did these past two days was the right thing to do. Make no mistake about that."

"My wife," Doc screamed, "lied to me! She snuck out of my bed and was battling some dark unnatural thing, and I hadn't the least fucking clue. She made an ass out of me. AGAIN. Yeah, you bet your fucking boots I'm pissed! At both of you!"

Again Wyatt only calmly nodded and blew smoke in the air.

Doc watched all of this and felt his temper escalate. "Wyatt, I don't know if Josie's mentioned this or not, but your calm detached attitude is infuriating. Why don't you yell and scream like any other man?"

He laughed, chuckling through the cigar clenched between his teeth. "Yeah, Jo has mentioned that trait once or twice. And believe me Doc, I do yell and scream."

Doc Holliday turned away, eyeballing the thick line of salt rapping about the burnt shell. Several yards away was a cloth bag stuck to a bush. He walked over and plucked it free. "A salt bag. No doubt from my smoke house."

"Yeah." Wyatt calmly droned again.

"She should have come to me, and explained the situation. We could have formed a plan, or…"

Wyatt interrupted by reaching into his pocket to pull free a scrap of dark cloth. "Smell this." He said while passing it to Doc.

"What is it?" Slowly, not knowing what to expect, Doc reached out to take the item. He held the cloth up into the air, turning it around get a good look. Smaller than a handkerchief, it was oval in shape and burnt badly around the edges.

"It's part of the clothing Alex worn last night. I pulled it out of the fire. Smell it." Wyatt suggested.

Doc willing pressed the scrap to his face and breathed deeply. Instantly, his body warmed, a burning ache sprang from nowhere and settled between his legs. One moment he was calm, rational, not in the least hungry for sex and the next on the very edge of orgasm. He trembled, groaned softly and smelled the cloth again. The erection he sported grew harder, took on a life of its own, wanting, aching like had never ached before, it twitched and pulsed against his lower stomach. Again a groan leaked from his throat, the world around him was forgotten all that matter was the sweet fragrance and the growing need to ejaculate.

Wyatt reached out and snatched the cloth from Doc's hand.

The violent contrast between the fresh air and the lack of the sweet perfume made his head and chest ache. His penis jerked again, wanting, aching for something substantial that only existed inside the woven threads of cloth. Without thought, he reached for Wyatt, intending to take back what was stolen from him. A growl of rage flooded his reason right before Wyatt pushed him to the ground.

Slowly, the sensation began to pass. Doc gasped, and fresh air filled his nostrils, washing away the fragrance and the strong drug induced reaction. He groaned, cupped his hand over his aching cock and rolled, turning his back on Wyatt.

"Now do you understand why she didn't tell you?" Wyatt asked while staring calmly down at his friend.

"Oh, God." Doc groaned again, stretching out face down on the ground still unable to stand.

Wyatt reached under his coat for a match. "Allie had to hit me on the head with a vase. Knocked me out too, for a good ten minutes. I had to promise I wouldn't smell the material again, ever. But I knew it was important to show you. I'm sorry Doc, but there was no other way to make you see the light."

He snapped the match and set the flame to the fabric, holding in up in the air until it was completely engulfed. Only then did he release it, letting the burnt cinder float away in the cold air. "That's some powerful shit. And consider that was secondary contact lingering on Alex's clothing. I can only imagine what direct contact with the succubus could do to a man. Let's hope we never find out."

Pushing himself to a sitting position, Doc unconsciously rubbed his still painful erection. "And Virgil? How is he?"

"Alive. Sick as a dog, too. Mara's been feeding on him. He's a weak as a kitten, but alive. He doesn't remember much, thank God." Wyatt sighed loudly and looked at the vacant black ground. "I don't know how Allie's going to deal with all this."

Doc groaned and pushed himself off of the ground, setting his fallen hat firmly back on his head. "I thought Alex healed him?"

"She did, in a way. She cleaned the drug out of his system. But he's like a junky now without a fix. Withdraw is hell. I believe Alex intended to work on him some more today…if you'll let her, that is. The other men Mara entrapped, Tim Brooks for example, we believe were not that infected and with time the drug will leave their systems."

He winced with guilt. "Maybe later. I need my wife to stay at home today, Wyatt. We still have a lot of healing to do."

"Understandable." He repeated for the umpteenth time. "Well, if you're done here, let's return to the ranch."

* * *

The outing into the woods was peaceful. Alex did her best to appear normal, and Doc did his best to appear calm. They took a large wagon, pulled by two draft horses, huge beasts, standing nineteen hands high with necks the thickness of tree trunks but governed by gentle hearts too meek to hurt a fly. Alex had named the horses, Sampson and Goliath.

She kept quiet for most of the trip, sitting in the back with her boys and Morgan's little girl. Doc and Morgan sat upfront with Morgan driving the wagon. Alex had packed bed warmers filled with hot coals, and rapped in thick towels, and wool blankets to keep the children warm. A picnic lunch box filled with ham sandwiches, chocolate cake and cold milk kept them nourished and their spirits up. They sang Christmas songs, in English and in Latin. Alex had given each of the children strings of bells to shake and ring in time with the holiday tunes.

They didn't discuss the prior evening's events. If Morgan was aware of what took place he kept his feelings and opinions to himself. Doc, for the most part, remained aloof and quiet. Often Alex would try to catch his eye but would find her husband staring off into space deep in thought. Finally, after maintaining her distance while the men cut down four beautiful Frazer fur trees she took advantage of a still moment and reached for his arm, wrapping her hand around his elbow. When he turned to look down at her she stood on tiptoes, reaching up with her free hand to slip her fingers around his neck and kiss him. For the first time since their argument, he smiled at her and she felt the wound within her heart close slightly.

On the way home, Morgan sat in the back with the kids, in case the trees should slip their bindings. Much to Alex's chagrin, he made the children laugh by teaching them silly Christmas songs about farting reindeer, and drunken elves. Alex rode upfront with Doc, sitting close to his side, letting her hand rest gently against his thigh. He smiled at her once more during the ride home.

And so one of the worst days in Alex's life came to a close, hopefully never to be repeated.

* * *

The next afternoon Alex made another trip into town to do some last minute Christmas shopping while Sally watched the children. Christmas was only six days away and today was December nineteenth, her birthday. Not an event she was looking forward to celebrating, particularly because her husband was still so angry with her.

Doc had gone to work, but before he left he gave her strict instructions. She could shop in town for just a few hours, and that was all. She was to pick up his parents at the train station at the appointed time, and then she was to return home with absolutely no alterations in her schedule.

Obediently she agreed to his demands, unwilling to upset him further, she was determined to submit to whatever he wanted. Her trip into town didn't need be long. There were only a few things she still needed to pick up to make Christmas complete. One of the most important gifts was for her husband who always proved to be the hardest person to buy for. Clothing was out of the question. The closet in their bedroom was already overflowing with all the outfits John continuously bought. Guns were too personal to buy for another without having an idea what make and model was preferred. Dental equipment was also out of the question. Doc had fully outfitted his office after their initial move to Kentucky.

So with these things in mind, Alex decided to look at jewelry. A small diamond pinky ring would be just the accessory her husband would like.

After shopping in a few other stores, she made her way down the street toward Fitzwater's jewelry store.

The little bell above the door sounded as Alex stepped inside the posh store. Turning as she entered, Mr. Fitzwater extended a bright smile and a warm handshake. "Mrs. Holliday, how nice to see you again. What may I do for you today?"

"A gift, Mr. Fitzwater, if you please, for my husband."

His wide brown eyes popped further open with enthusiasm. "Oh, a lovely watch and chain…" he turned excitedly and reached for a low tray that held several pocket watches, "the ideal Christmas gift."

"Ah…" Alex paused over the tray, roaming an approving eye over gold and silver timepieces. "They're all very beautiful, but… what I had in mind was a diamond pinky ring. Do you have any?" She didn't think it was possible, but Fitzwater's smile grew even larger, show off several gold teeth Doc had personally installed.

"Yes, ma'am." In the breath of a second, he switched the watch tray for a smaller tray containing masculine rings. "Here, along this row are the pinky rings." He indicated the upper two rows.

Alex looked carefully, picking up several rings before finding the perfect one. "This one, Mr. Fitzwater." She lifted a gold band with delicate engravings of vines scrolling up each side to cradle the oblong diamond at the top. "It's perfect."

"It's a carat and a quarter, Mrs. Holliday. A nice size stone."

Alex agreed. The diamond was large enough to be audacious and yet small enough to fall under the guidelines of conservatism. Turning the ring over she looked at the smooth underside. "Do you think it's too small to have it inscribed?"

"Well, that depends on what you want to say."

A sly smile spread over Alex's face. "That won't be a problem. I have only one word in mind."

After paying for her purchase she decided to wait for the inscription rather than return for it later. "It's too hard for me to get out with the children." She explained, but secretly more worried about whether Doc would allow her to leave the house again before Christmas.

"I'll only be a moment, Mrs. Holliday. Look around the store, if you like. Or…" He paused as a new idea came to mind. "Have you gotten a present for the children yet?"

"Oh, yes, several in fact. Why do you ask?"

"Well, my son's dog just had puppies – black Labradors. A healthy litter, too. They're ready to be weaned and I thought…."

"A puppy!" She squealed with excitement. "Oh, what an excellent idea, Mr. Fitz. When can I see them?"

"Now, if you like. I house them in the backroom." He gestured to the back of the store. "Just go through that doorway and to your right. You'll seem them."

There, cuddled near the wood stove, lay five of the most perfect puppies. Ignoring propriety, Alex sat directly on the wood floor spreading her skirts out for the fur babies to climb on. The mother dog was particularly calm, friendly, and eager for the extra attention, which Alex considered as a good sign.

For the next thirty minutes she played with the dogs, holding each puppy in the air to study their expressions. Finally, she made her choice, a little boy dog, with the fattest belly and most outgoing personality. Scooping him up, she cradled him inside her cloak.

She paid the merchant for the cost of the puppy and with Doc's diamond ring hidden inside her purse she held her new baby safely next to her chest with his sweet dark head sticking out from under the folds of velvet cloth. "Not a word to my husband, Mr. Fitz. I have a strange feeling the puppy will draw more excitement from him than my boys."

"Rest assured, Mrs. Holliday, my lips are sealed."

The 2:20, northbound train was exactly on time. Alex greeted her in-laws with a bright smile and a loving kiss. "I'm so glad you decided to come. We'll have such a good Christmas." She told them while directing the porter to place their bags on the back of her small-enclosed coach.

"There's more," Henry Holliday admitted after two hefty bags were strapped down. "Well, we brought the children presents, of course, and one or two things from the house I thought my son might want." He motioned toward the baggage car. "Give me a moment to make arrangements to have them delivered. "And I'll be…."

A small squeak like bark interrupted his banter. Henry's brows furrowed with confusion as he looked carefully at Alex. "Are you sick my dear?"

Alex stifled the urge to laugh, and parted the folds of her velvet cloak. "Not quite…" Out popped a sleek black head to let loose another yelp in the air. "I guess he was telling me he couldn't breath under there."

"Oh, how cute." Rachel Holliday crooned. "Is he a Labrador?"

Alex nodded. "A surprise Christmas present for my family, Rachel. I hope you both are good at keeping secrets."

"I am." Rachel admitted with a grin. "My husband is not so discreet."

Henry blushed and then shrugged. "I forget sometimes."

"Well, try very hard, Henry. I want to see my children faces on Christmas morning when this little guy makes his entrance."

"Christmas is still six days away. How do you intend to keep him hidden?" He asked.

"I'll house him with the ranch hands in the bunk house. I'm sure the guys will be thrilled to take care of him until Christmas and if they're not… I'll fire them all and hire new help." She winked, and broke into a large smile.

* * *

The next several days flew by. Alex was extremely busy with decorating the tree, last minute baking and entertaining her in-laws. Doc was happy to see his father again and spent a lot of time alone with him. What the two men discussed Alex didn't know. She kept company with Rachel and the other Earp women. And as usual, the grandchildren eased any awkward moments.

Mostly Doc was still cool and distant to her. It was during those times when the pain in her chest would flare up and hot tears would spring to her eyes. He spoke to her as little as possible, and mostly to give her direction. Gone where the tender looks and secret caresses he often bestowed on her. Gone were the covert erotic embraces he was so fond of giving her when company was present just so he could watch her face flush, knowing she would have to return to the sitting room aching and wet under her skirts.

All these little things worried Alex but they were only signs that something deeper and more troublesome laid between them. The wound that festered above all else was his coldness. Not once in six days had he made love to her. Not even on her birthday.

More than one night she sat in the cushioned chair in their bedroom awake, worried, tearful, while he slept unconcerned. She didn't dare leave the bedroom after they retired for the night. Crying was painfully silent. It was hard to stifle her tears when the pain in her chest threatened to split her open. By Christmas Eve she didn't think she could stand another day living like this.

She reached for him, stretching out on the bed where he lay with his back turned toward her, feigning sleep. Scooting closer to spoon in behind him she caressed his hip, easing her hands around toward his stomach to tickle the soft skin.

He jerked, refusing to turn toward her. "I'm tired Alex."

She leaned up on her elbow and peeked over his shoulder to study his cold expression, hoping to see just a glimmer of tenderness. "You've been tired every night this week, John. How long will this continue?"

"Until I'm not tired anymore. Now leave me alone." He snapped, still refusing to look in her direction.

"It's Christmas Eve." She pleaded, feeling hot tears spring to her eyes again, or was it still. Perhaps the tears never left her. They were always so quick to emerge she wasn't sure if she had stopped crying once in the last six days.

He gave no reply, his silence was deafening and it bloodied the gaping wound in her heart.

Alex returned to her side of the bed and let her tears sink into her pillow. Hours passed, and sleep was hard coming. Finally, unable to hold back her pain any longer, she rose from the bed, and pulled on her robe and slippers. If she couldn't leave the room to sob, she would at least wail as much as she wanted into the nightly winds.

Easing open the French doors, Alex stepped outside to the porch and let her tears fall into the cold wind.

Doc Holliday wasn't sound asleep. He drifted in and out of consciousness. His dreams were dark and confusing, and in them he found only sadness and sorrow. Finally, he turned onto his back and looked across the bed for his wife. It was wrong to treat her so badly, so coldly. She had been trying to please him, making an extra effort to do as she was told, to do whatever it took to make him smile again, and he had been acting like an ass the entire time.

She was right. It was Christmas Eve, time to put his pain to rest and get on with his life.

When he turned his head he found the bed empty. Anger shot through him, followed by a good dose of alarm. Jerking to a sitting position he looked about the dimly lit room. The fireplace had a new log of wood to keep the chill at bay, but the room was empty and Alex was nowhere in sight.

He tossed back the bedding, and was mentally preparing to make war as he threw on his robe, when a muffled sound caught his attention. He stopped and listened. Crying? No, that was wrong. It wasn't just crying. This was weeping, strong, pain-filled weeping and it was coming from the porch outside.

He parted the curtains and the first thing he noticed was snow. A mini blizzard was blowing outside and standing in the middle of it, leaning against the railing, was his wife, with her arms wrapped around her waist, crying her heart out.

Paralyzed by guilt, he watched and listened, and then it occurred to him to wonder how many nights had she stood like this, outside in the cold, so that she could give way to her tears and not disturb his rest. How beautiful she was, with her long hair loose and blowing wildly in the wind while the snowstorm raged around her, and like a wailing banshee she stood against it, letting Mother Nature carry her pain into the air.

He reached her within seconds ignoring the bitter cold wind and the sting of snow. Gripping her by the shoulders, he pulled her into his arms and held her. Her sobs continued, but her arms reached back for him holding him as tightly as he held her. Doc simply slipped his hand under her knees and carried her back inside.

She was frozen. Her hair wet and stiff from the snow, her robe and slippers soaked through. How long, he wanted to ask her, had she stood out there, but now was not the time to speak of such things. Words would only make the pain more cutting and the healing hard coming. Quickly, he undressed her, tossing her wet clothing to the floor, he tucked her back into bed and covered her frozen, naked body with the warm quilt.

He tossed another log onto the fire before joining on the bed, eager for the tender feeling of her naked flesh pressed against his. Still he said nothing. Her cries had slowed to hiccups. Her frozen tears were melting in the heat of the room.

This level of pain was beyond discussion. He would nurse her in the only manner that he could, and he would hope, that come morning she would feel better. He hoped that come morning she would still be willing to look him in the eyes and smile at him as she had smiled at him everyday this past week. And if he were so blessed he would not act like an ass again and turn away from her attempt at forgiveness.

It was Christmas and it was time to stop inflicting pain on his wife.

He loved her slowly, and with the greatest of care. He nurtured her passion, mended the wounds in her soul until her body bowed and jerked against him, until her hands sunk painfully into his flesh as wave after wave of passion washed away her pain. And when all was calm, when her cries of ecstasy passed, when her body had warmed to the point that a fine sheen of sweat broke out across her skin, he started over again, and this time he spoke soft words of forgiveness, words of love, words that meant nothing and everything. This he did for her, and soon thereafter, they both slipped into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

The room looked like chaos had made a homey nest with the firm intent of spending the winter. Wrappers lay everywhere. Bows speckled the floor. Toys and gifts of every kind strewed across every surface of the room.

Alex sat back and watched her happy boys play with their new presents. Her in-laws had really carried the season too far. She was very sure Henry had spent a small fortune on his grandchildren. John Jr. had a new rocking horse, a small army of toy soldiers, a child size baseball mitt, a pen and ink set, a multi-colored set of pastels and tons of paper to drawl on. Alexander received a new teddy bear, a stuffed clown, that Alex secretly thought scared the child, blocks carved with every letter of the alphabet, a toy dog to pull by a long string when the baby started to walk, and a new mobile to hang over his crib.

Spoiled was definitely spelled with a capital 'S' in this house.

Her father-in-law had also brought his late wife's rocking chair, a surprise that sent her husband to tears, as well as every article of baby clothing and artifact that had once been Doc's. "She kept everything." Henry had explained, "Alice always hoped to be able to pass them down to her grandchildren, and," he turned to look at John Jr. and Alexander playing on the floor, "well, in a way I hope I'm fulfilling her wishes. I should have given them to you when Johnny was first born. I'm sorry, Son. I'm a selfish, thoughtless old man."

Doc only smiled and thanked his father with a firm hug, a reaction that Alex was secretly happy about.

She glanced away from the mess and down at her watch again. _Almost time_. Looking up she saw her husband staring at her with suspicion imbedded in his face. Alex only winked at him but said nothing.

Her heart gave a leap of excitement when she heard the backdoor slam. Glancing down the hallway she waited, silently counting away the seconds. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven._ There was a small yelp and the scurrying sound of nails clicking on the wooden floor. _Eight, nine…_

"Alex?" Doc inquired with a frown. "What are you up to?"

"Ten." She said aloud, and right on cue a fat bellied puppy with a bright red bow came barreling into the room, skidded across several loose sheets of wrapping paper, and landed at her husband's feet.

An uproar broke out, the loudest, happiest noise emanated from John who leaned down to pick the Labrador up.

Standing at the doorway stood one of the ranch hands that Alex had arranged to deliver the puppy at a certain time. She gave him a thumbs up signal in which he replied with a wave before he turned to leave.

"Where did you get him?" Doc asked while letting the puppy kiss his face.

There was an eager cry of "Daddy, Daddy", over and over before Doc passed the puppy to Little John.

"Do you like him?" Alex asked

"He's beautiful. Did you see the size of his paws? He's going to be huge! Almost as big as Sampson."

"Not quite that big, dearest."

"You didn't answer me, where did he come from?" He flopped down into a nearby chair and pulled her onto his lap.

"John, your parents." She hissed under her breath.

"Oh, don't bother about them." Kissing her eagerly on the mouth. "It's the best Christmas present ever. Thank you."

"Wait there's more." She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small blue velvet box. "Merry Christmas, John."

His grin grew as he took the box and eased open the lid. For a moment he said nothing as he peered down at the ring, and Alex began to worry that he didn't like her gift. Slowly, he lifted the ring from the box and turned it around in the air. "I… I don't know what to say. It perfect, and just what I would have bought for myself. Thank you."

"I purchased it at Fitzwater's. It was his son who owned the Labrador puppies. Look on the underside. I had it inscribed.

With tears standing in his eyes, Doc turned the ring over and toward the light. Inside was one word that spoke volumes about the love she held for him alone.

_Always_

"Merry Christmas, my love." She whispered leaning in to taste his lips.

"Merry Christmas, Alexis." He answered crossing the space between them to meet her halfway.

**The End…for now.**


	5. Four Years, Four Months Later

**Holliday vs. Holliday**

**Four Years, Four Months Later...**

* * *

At first, it started out as nothing, just an accident really. One moment Alexis was in her bedroom closet choosing a dress to wear for the afternoon and the next instantly catapulted into a full-fledged war. Holliday vs. Holliday.

She was still a little on edge from the last battle that had started during the Christmas season. It was an argument that had torn a major rip in the fabric of her marriage, but was finally mended early Christmas morning when her husband had relented, held her until her tears dried up and told her he was sorry. Such an important word, sorry. It represented omission, forgiveness, and a longing for all wounds to be wrapped in peace and the healing process to begin.

Alex had accepted Doc's apology, and yet at the same time she began to walk a careful and deliberate path whenever he was around. Her time was spent at home, taking care of the house, her children and when John was home she did her utmost to care for him. Light, cheerful, pleasant, beguiling were adjectives she draped herself with each and every time he was within hearing distance. No need was unmet, no desire unfulfilled. She became a Stepford wife, coiffed, manicured, dripping in perfume, stylishly dressed on the outside, and completely naked underneath.

Did Doc notice the extra effort she displayed every day? Did he wonder if she was happy in her performance? Did he think about the stress level in her mind rising, and rising each week, day, hour?

Hell no.

She noticed him not noticing, and it irked her to no end. But still she kept trying. Every morning was the start of another outstanding performance. She opened her eyes, kissed him, or fucked him, depending on what mood he was in, made the bed, made the breakfast, and then she got dressed. This morning was no different, at least until she went into the closet and then her day took a rapid turn south.

The hanger was stuck, crisscrossed by another neighboring hanger, as hangers frequently do. Alex jerked on it too hard, and from the shelf above her head a hatbox came crashing to the floor. Thankfully the hat inside was undamaged. It was one of her favorites, with an overly large brim, feathers everywhere and lots of style. Wearing it always made her feel decadent, and feminine. Like a movie star, she would dip the hat just a little to one side of her head, giving her appearance just a little flare.

Lifting the bandbox back onto the shelf was a two-part process. Doc had the shelf installed just a little too high for her. He had no problem reaching and storing things on his side of the closet, but Alex needed to get a stool to stand on to retrieve or place items on her side.

Grabbing a footstool from the sitting area of the bedroom, she placed it on the closet floor, grasped the hatbox and stepped up. Now she could clearly see every item on the shelf. A large empty spot stood waiting to receive the box. All she had to do was slide it in place, but for some reason the emptiness of the space disturbed her. It wasn't dirty, or messy, it was just empty. There was more than enough room for the bandbox to be stored, so why did a tickle in the back of her mind begin to stir?

The space yawned at her, it leered, it taunted, it was too fucking open and suddenly it occurred to her why it was so bare. Something was missing. Actually, several things were missing, but namely her sword.

Feeling the first rush of fear, she reached up with her free hand and pushed several things back and forth, thinking her guardian items might have slid behind a few things. But no, this was not the case. Her sword was gone and so was Malachi's as were both their journals, and her gun. They were the only things she had refused to give up to Arthur when he arrived on her doorstep, scaring her senseless last spring.

Again she looked across the shelf, pushing items to the floor in her haste before filling the hole with the bandbox she held. Stepping down from the stool, she fell to her hands and knees and began to look under her dresses, thinking maybe she had forgotten she hid her Guardian items on the floor of the closet, or that for some reason her husband had moved….

Alexis stopped searching and sat back on her heels. All of a sudden everything became crystal clear. "Bloody hell." She spit, feeling her panic fade only to be replaced by a burning rage. The gun, swords and journals weren't misplaced or lost. They had been stolen – stolen by an overcautious, prone to panic, somewhat controlling, dentist.

"I'm going to kill him!" The statement felt true and strong. Oh, yes, killing was definitely an option; she could envision the act in her head, could almost feel his skin under her hands, her fingers bending and tightening around his Southern neck.

In a dream-like-state her murder fantasy continued while she dressed. Slowly, gracefully, she went downstairs and into his sitting room where he sat talking with his father.

Why the senior Holliday and his wife didn't go home after Christmas was not entirely clear to her. Not that Alex minded her in-laws extended visit. Actually, she enjoyed their company very much, and it seemed that her husband had finally managed to find neutral ground in his relationship with his father. The two men spent many hours together talking, fishing and riding horses. Finally, after many uncomfortable years father and son were acting like family.

"At least John's last moments on this earth would be good ones." She mumbled while taking deliberate steps down the hall. The door was open so she simply knocked and walked in.

"Darlin," Doc cooed, when he saw her approach, "my father and I were just discussing a family trip to New York. Wyatt and Morgan are planning to accompany "Stage Boy" to his next race and we thought you and my stepmother might enjoy going with them. What do you say? We'll get dressed to the nines and mingle with all the blue-blooded snobs."

Alexis walked directly to the side of his desk and stopped just inches from his side. The face she presented was a calm one. After all, her husband could be innocent. Her Guardian relics could honestly be misplaced. There was no logic in attacking him just yet. She would wait, and with a cool head address the situation.

"New York?" She purred back. "Sounds like fun. Let's discuss it later, though. I have a more urgent matter I need to speak with you about. May I see you in private, please?"

His one brow rose ever so slightly. "Of course. May I inquire as to the topic?"

Ignoring his question she turned to her father in-law who sat in silent curiosity. "Henry, forgive me for interrupting your talk. I need a moment alone with my husband." With that said, she turned and floated out of the room, leaving John confused and trailing behind her as she made her way back to their bedroom.

Quietly, he closed the door before he spoke. "Alex, that was rude." He scolded.

"I'm sorry, but this is important." She stood in the center of the room, a warm rush of anger springing up and down her arms. There was no way she could sit still right now.

Alarm lit his eyes; he stepped forward and reached for her arm. "What is it? Has something happened?"

"Yes, but it's not what you think. Everyone is well, so please don't be uneasy." She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. "John, I hope I'm wrong, dead wrong in what I am thinking, but I've got to ask you… have you moved my Guardian things? Did you take them?"

His face went white but not with fright or nerves, it was anger that set his back straight and his lips in a tight line. "Alex…" He growled.

It was all the answer she needed. Switching gears she deliberately stepped forward spurred by her urge to attack. "Why? Why would you do that? Why would you take my things?"

"You know why!" He suddenly spit. "I'm asserting my authority in this house!"

"No, you're not… you're acting like an asshole. Now give me back my things!" Her voice rose in pitch, rose with anger. Clenching her stomach muscles she made an effort to hold her temper at bay.

He shook his head, a small sneer rising to his lips. "No. You don't need them anymore, remember."

"I remember that I gave you my solemn promise to never again take an active Guardian role. I don't remember giving you permission to take my gun, my sword and Malachi's sword, not to mention our journals and hide them. I want them back, John."

"No." He said again. "I've made up my mind. This is how it will be, Alex."

"You don't trust me? After I gave my word, you still don't trust me? What the fuck, John? Is this how you want to live?" She was yelling now, her temper beyond her control.

"My parents are downstairs…" He warned in a low voice.

"I don't really give a fuck. Now, you have exactly five minutes to get my things and my husband's things and return them to the shelf in our closet."

"Your husband? I'm your husband!" Doc barked while jerking his thumb toward his chest. "Malachi is dead, remember?"

"He was my husband first. His things and his memory are important to me. How dare you take something that doesn't belong to you and refuse to give them back! Those swords are not only worth as small fortune, but they have meaning to me, to my life, to what and who I am, despite how you order me about. They are part of my soul you can't dismiss or suppress or control. How dare you… how dare you take them from me!"

"They are secure. Safely stored away where I know they will stay inactive!"

Alex jerked back, staring wide-eyed, stunned. "You really don't trust me? You don't have any faith in my word. It means nothing to you, does it?"

Doc braced his hands on his hips. "Your history speaks otherwise, Alex."

"My history?" She hissed her voice lower in pitch even as her temper escalated. "Let me tell you something about my history, John Holliday. I'm no saloon whore like Kate. I come from a wealthy family, just like you. I went to one of the top five girl's schools in Europe. As a matter of fact, my education is better than yours. My family is just as distinguished. My uncle worked for the French Embassy, his wife was descended from royalty. I had three offers of marriage by the age of fourteen. All of them were arranged matches, with the suitor's parents approaching my aunt and uncle privately, hoping, wishing to align their family with mine. When I chose Malachi as my love, my husband, it hit the society papers for weeks. We were married by a bloody Bishop, not so much because of who my family was, but because Malachi was that revered by the Guardians. He was a top-notch soldier, a top-notch trainer. He killed more vampires than any Guardian, ever. He was a living-breathing god in that organization, and when he told them he had asked for my hand, they insisted he get married at Saint Peter's Basilica by a fucking Bishop. Do you hear what I'm saying? Does this mean anything to you?

You question my honor, my loyalty. You have the audacity to toss my experience and leadership in my face. I don't just hunt down drunks and desperadoes who hide out in saloons, like Virgil, Wyatt and Morgan. I crawl after and disable things you couldn't possible imagine. Things so terrifying you only dreamt of them, things that would frighten away your reason. That is what I did before I met you. I did what was right, and what I had to do to protect my unit and in protection of the world. Do you hear me… the world. That is what a Guardian is! That is what I am!" She stressed her last statement by firmly pointing a finger toward her chest.

"I'm sick and tired of you tossing my decision to dispose of that succubus in my face. Despite of what you may feel or think, what I did was the right thing to do, and in doing it, I SAVED LIVES! I protected my family!

You knew what and who I was when you asked me to marry you, and to spend my life with you, here," she tossed out her hands, "in this backward century. I've given up so much to be here. I've given up everything that I knew – my past, my belongings, my home, my friends and my world to be your wife. How dare you ask me to give up my sword too? How much more must you take from me? And more importantly, what will I become after I've lost everything that makes me who I am?"

She breathed deeply in an effort to calm her nerves and hold back her tears of rage. In a calmer, softer voice she once again pleaded, "Now, I'm asking you again to please return my things."

To say that Doc was overwhelmed by her rant would be an understatement. He knew she was passionate. He knew she lived by her gut, and followed her heart. But he had no idea who the woman standing in front of him was. This was a side to her personality he had never seen. And then it occurred to him why – standing before him was a modern woman. The Alexis Marie from the twenty-first century had just made an appearance in his bedroom, and judging from her attitude and stance, she wasn't leaving anytime soon. This version of his wife, this femme fatele, had stayed behind with her washing machine, automobile, and air-conditioner, but he had taken her precious sword and journals, and this modern nightmare had appeared to get them back.

Alarm bells were ringing. No, that was wrong… they weren't just ringing, they were clanging, and bumping against his brain, warning him to tread with care. Did he listen? Did he take a step back and reevaluate his position?

Of course not.

"You say you did what was necessary to protect your family. Well, that's what I'm doing, Alex – I'm protecting my family. Trust me, when I tell you that your precious weapons and mementoes of your former love are safely stored in a place of my choosing, and there they will stay." His words were meant to be soothing, to end this conflict by playing his trust me card. Stepping in closer, he reached for her, placing a comforting hand on her arm in an attempt to further calm her down.

The movement was so swift, so smoothly executed it took him by complete surprise. One minute he was patronizing her with masculine confidence, and the next he was sprawled face down on the floor, one arm twisted and pulled sharply behind his back, his wrist bent at a painful angle, and Alex's foot placed firmly between his shoulders. Pinned and thoroughly subdued, he could only curse and hiss at her through clenched teeth.

After a moment, just long enough for him to realize just how much in control she really was, he felt her lean down over his head, her breath soft against his ear. "You're going to be sorry you said that, John. You have just pushed me too far." Then she released him and walked calmly out of the room.

* * *

The sun had almost finished her final performance for the day. The last of her rays were bleeding weakly across the sky in hues of pink, orange and red. If it hadn't been for the evening shadows, Rick Jacobs, the town sheriff, might not have noticed the lantern in Dr. Holliday's office window. As it was, the faint lamp gave off very little light. Too poor, he thought, for a dentist to work by and that was why he suspected foul play and peeked in the window.

The silhouette was distinctly feminine as it floated across the wall. _Doc's wife_, he thought, and would have left then and there, turned for home and let Mrs. Holliday carry out whatever business she had inside her husband's dental office if it hadn't been for the loud crash that came from within.

Thinking she was in trouble, he quickly made for the front door, flung it open and rushed inside. There was another crash, followed by the sound of metal bouncing off a wall.

He immediately noticed that the waiting room had been trashed, the contents of the coat closet spewed out across the floor as if someone was violently looking for something, and was too impatient to do it in an orderly manner.

The door to the surgical room was open and from the corner of his eye, Rick saw a glass beaker sail across the room and smash against a wall. "Dirty, rotten, son-of-a-bitch!" He heard hissed low, as if the person within was talking, and cursing to himself.

Pulling his gun, he advanced toward the open doorway, and nearly shot the doctor's wife. This room was also in shambles, drawers were pulled open, and one cabinet had been completely empted onto the floor. Broken glass speckled the carpet. "Mrs. Holliday?" He asked, shocked by the damage she had created; he carefully kept a safe distance from her.

She gave him only a passing glance before she knelt down and began to tear through another cabinet. "Oh, good evening, Mr. Jacobs." She replied, her voice curt and full of anger.

Equally shocked by her odd greeting he proceeded to ask the obvious. "Mrs. Holliday, is anything wrong?"

She paused, and turned to glare at him, her eyes rimmed in red, her complexion stark white under the streaks of tears. "Wrong?" she choked. "Actually, everything is wrong. My life is wrong, my world is wrong. I'm not me anymore! I'm…I'm, this," she gestured wildly at her gown, "thing! An imposture, outside of my time, and damn far from home, and now he's taken my things, and hidden them from me. Like I was some brash and naughty child!" Turning back toward the cabinet again she continued to rifle through the inside before issuing a growl of rage. She stood abruptly, grabbed a jar of cotton balls, threw the container through the front window and stormed out of the building.

After his violent confrontation with Alex, Doc had stumbled out of his house and to the only safe haven he could think of – he went to Wyatt's. His reprieve was short lived. Sitting in the comfort of the ex-lawman's study, he had only just finishing telling his friend about the argument he had with his wife.

Wyatt ran an unsteady hand through his hair. "Jesus, Doc. I don't think Alex has ever been that upset. But I thought the two of you had settled your differences. I mean, didn't she promise you she wouldn't carry out her Guardian duties anymore?"

Doc emptied his brandy glass and reached for the bottle. Filling his glass he sighed, more from fatigue than anger. "She did promise me. She swore an oath actually. And like the ass that I am, I ignored it." Bounding to his feet he began to pace the room.

"I thought things were going so well. She seemed complacent and serene. How was I to know she was unhappy? For four years she's been a housewife and a mother. Her role as a Guardian forgotten until recently." He cast a look at Wyatt, neither man willing to mention the succubus that Alex had so cleverly disposed of. "By setting aside her weapons and journals I was just making sure her end of the bargain was being held up."

From his position in the comfort of his favorite leather chair, Wyatt began to add two and two together. "Alex isn't like other woman from our century, Doc. She's different. More like a man than a woman sometimes, and yet she's as feminine and delicate as any lady I've known."

Settling back down in his chair, Doc nodded in agreement. "Aptly put, Wyatt."

The ex-lawman pushed aside his brandy glass and leaned forward balancing his elbows on his knees. "Let me ask you something…if you were to give me your solemn word you would never do something again, swore an oath to uphold your end of the bargain, and I accepted your promise, but at the same time I went out of my way to make sure you didn't go back on your word, wouldn't you be spitting mad? Wouldn't you feel your honor had been impugned?"

"I would." Doc confirmed, sensing the direction his friend's narrative was leading.

"Well then, how do you think Alex is feeling at the moment? You've just asked the woman to give up something personal, Doc. Something that is every bit a part of her soul as gambling was to you not so long ago. She's given up a lot for you already. Aren't you pushing things?"

"But she agreed to…."

"Yes, but those weapons and journals were her safety wire keeping her connected to something that was, at one time, very important to her. You've just cut your wife's safety wire, Doc. She might have never picked up that sword again, without you knowing it, but all the same, that sword was nearby waiting just in case she ever needed to use it. And like a mirror she could still look upon an aspect of herself that belonged to her past, not to mention the only connection she had left to the world she used to live in."

He leaned back and slowly shook his head. "If I were you, I'd return her things tonight along with a dozen roses and an apology."

A sharp knock on the study's door interrupted their talk. Wyatt turned to glance at the door before turning back to look at Doc. "It's probably Alex."

Doc sighed loudly and moved to open the door, expecting to see her fiery green eyes he was taken off guard by the site of Rick Jacobs instead.

"Rick?"

"John. Wyatt." The sheriff nodded.

"Come in Rick." Wyatt called. "Have a brandy?"

"Yeah, actually I could use a drink but let me spit out what I came to say first." He turned toward Doc and swallowed hard. "I don't know how to say this so I'm just going to do the best I can…. I just caught your wife ransacking your dental office."

"What?" Doc gasped, feeling the knot of unease in his stomach continue to grow.

"It looked to me like she was searching for something. I'm assuming this is a personal matter between a husband and wife, so I didn't arrest her."

Doc raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't believe this."

"She seemed really upset, crying and not making a lick of sense. She said something about her life being wrong, and that she was out of time…no, wait, that's not right. Not out of time, outside of her time, whatever that means, and that she wasn't herself anymore. And then she said you had taken her things."

The bells were back, ringing and clanging again and this time he listened. "Where is she now, Rick?" He asked while shrugging on his coat.

"Don't know, Doc. After she threw a jar of cotton balls through your front window she stormed out. I tried to find her but… it was like she had disappeared."

"Wyatt…" Doc began.

"I'll get Virgil and Morgan. Between the four of us one of us is bound to find her."

* * *

Henry Holliday ambled down the hallway after eating a quiet meal with his wife. Where his host and hostess had disappeared to remained a mystery. In hushed tones the servants prepared the evening meal, saying nothing about the disturbance between his son and his lovely wife. Henry wasn't stupid. Something was amiss. The raised voices were hard to ignore, as was the tearful expression on his daughter-in-law's face right before she stormed out of the house.

"Come to bed." Rachel had told him right after they had finished eating. "Give John and Alexis the privacy they need."

Henry had agreed, but he first needed to retrieve his reading glasses he had left on the desk in his son's study.

He rounded the corner and flipped on the electric light switch to John's private domain, and let out a cry of surprise when he saw Alexis standing near the gun cabinet.

"Alex?" He squeaked.

"Oh, hello Henry." She replied in a distracted tone before she reached out and pulled on the cabinet door.

The senior Holliday eyeballed her strange attire. Dressed in pants, boots, flannel shirt and leather cowhide coat, she looked every bit the ranch hand. "Why are you dressed like that?" He stammered and then gasped aloud when he noticed the room was in shambles. "And what happened in here?"

"I was looking for something your son took from me." She spit and pulled on the glass door again, finding it was firmly locked. Moving quickly toward Doc's desk she pulled open one drawer after another in search of the key. "He's gone too far this time. The damn ass has no idea who he's messing with."

Items from the desk sailed everywhere. Pens, papers, wax seals and a small pocketknife landed on the floor. "Damn it." She hissed before slamming the last drawer shut. "He hid the key." She remarked to her father-in-law. "No matter," Alex continued while stepping around the desk again and back over to the cabinet.

As if in a dream, Henry watched her reach for a small decorative statue of General Robert E. Lee and use it to smash the glass on the gun cabinet. Without breaking her pace, she reached in and pulled the door open, quickly removed two handguns, a rifle and several boxes of ammunition.

Speechless, he watched her tuck the guns, and ammunition inside her coat before she shouldered the rifle.

As she passed by she nodded briefly in his direction. "Good evening, Henry."

Finding his voice and his reason, he finally asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out." She snapped. "You may tell your son his wife has decided to go camping."

"Camping? Alone?"

"Naturally. It seems I am alone, Henry. And if my husband isn't careful he too will be alone, indefinitely." She brushed by him and walked in the direction of the kitchen.

"Good God!" Henry Holliday breathed. Glasses forgotten, he rushed out of the office and went in search of his son.

Doc, Wyatt, Morgan and Virgil had just stomped through the front door when Henry rushed down the hallway. "John!" He called out, waving frantically with his hand. "Alex has…."

Doc stepped forward alarmed at the hurried pace his elderly father was keeping. "Sir," he replied while catching the elder Holliday's arm, "you shouldn't rush so. You might take a fall."

"Never mind about me." He gasped. "Your wife has just stormed out of your office fully armed. She wanted me to tell you that she was going camping… alone! And that if you're not careful you will also be alone… indefinitely. John what is going on? Did you two have a disagreement?"

Doc cursed low before flashing a heated look toward Wyatt. "How long ago was this?" He asked his father.

"Just." He gasped while gesturing down the hall, "she just walked out through the kitchen. You'd better hurry."

Rushing toward the kitchen Doc gave a passing glance at the open cabinet doors and general disarray she left behind in the one room of the house that was always neat and clean. Out the backdoor he flew just in time to see the fading dust trail of Alex's horse as she rode into the night.

"Fuck!"

Dazed, he shuffled back inside and to his study. Wyatt was already there, inspecting the damage Alex had left behind. "She took two handguns and one riffle, and enough ammo to start a small war." He announced.

Turning to gage his friend's reaction, Wyatt set his hands on his hips. "I'm assuming you didn't hide her things here in your office."

"No." Doc growled as he surveyed the ruins she left behind. The bookshelves were practically empty of every book. The desk drawers were pulled out, the contents spilled across the floor. The secret compartment he had installed to hide her jewels was also open. Peeking inside, he noticed her jewelry was untouched. The items she was frantically searching for he had not hidden there.

Virgil, Morgan and his father lingered in the doorway. Doc gave them only a passing glance. "She took off on horseback. We'll never find her now."

Henry Holliday gasped loudly, alarmed at the thought of his daughter-in-law alone in the dark. "John, you must find her. It's freezing outside. She could get lost, and there are wolves about…"

Doc passed a soothing hand over his father's arm. "Alex is very familiar with the outdoors, father. She knows how to keep warm and protect herself. Do not worry. But I will go in search of her, although I'll have to wait until morning to track her."

"I'll go with you, Doc," Morgan suddenly announced. "You're no good at tracking and you know it."

"Doc," Wyatt called while stepping carefully through the glass sprinkled across the floor. "You better go prepared, if you know what I mean?"

"Yes," He sighed. "I know. I'll get her things and return them." Looking hopelessly about the room. "I concede; this is one battle I can't win."

* * *

The early morning light greeted Doc Holliday, causing him to wince and shade his eyes. He stepped out on the back porch and breathed deeply the cold February air. The hot cup of coffee he held sent vapors of steam across his unshaven face. Blowing softly across the hot liquid he sipped the dark brew as he watched Morgan approach leading two horses laden with bedrolls, food, water and shotguns. "Ready?" He asked.

"Indeed." He mumbled and set down his cup.

"You don't look like you slept much Doc."

"I didn't sleep at all, Morgan. I sat up and pondered the veracity that is my marriage."

He walked out to the yard and over to a frozen birdbath that sat neglected under a maple tree. Keeping the birdbath at his back, he turned and counted five paces and then stopped. Leaning down, he brushed the loose dirt away with his glove revealing the rope handle buried below. Doc had to pull on the handle twice before the frozen ground gave way to reveal the secret chamber he had dug in the yard with his own hands. Three feet in length and two feet wide and deep, no one knew this hole was here. Not the servants, not Wyatt and especially not Alex.

"I'll be Goddamned." Morgan cried. He watched with wonder as Doc leaned in and pulled out a canvas bag with Alex's weapons and journals hidden inside. Wrapped carefully in an oiled leather cloth, her things were safely cared for just as he had promised.

"She never would have found them." Morgan gasped after Doc had finished concealing the trap door again.

"No." Doc admitted while tying the bag to the saddle. "She never would have." A bolt of guilt curdled in his stomach, making him think his coffee would come up at any moment. He had lost a lot of faith, and hope during these past twenty-four hours. The absence left him broken and confused.

In unison, the two men mounted. Doc set his hat more firmly on his head before turning up the collar of his coat against the cold. He sighed while overlooking the home he had built with Alex. "She's unhappy and I'm unhappy. Maybe… Maybe this was all a mistake."

"What do you mean, Doc?" Morgan asked with an edge of alarm in his voice.

"I believe it's time to cut my losses, my friend. We tried. I don't want to hold her here if our life together is too confining, too structured for her to bear."

"Doc," Morgan growled while turning his horse sideways to get a better look at his friend. "Pardon me for saying this but… the only thing that is too confining and to structured is your attitude. You're too hard on her sometimes. I didn't say anything back in December about the Lauder woman, but I never did see why Alex's actions got you so hot. I'm sure if she could have safely confided in you she would have. Alex did what she thought was the right thing to do. She was protecting you and Virgil. You'd be a complete jerk if you didn't respect that." He pushed his hat firmly on his head and kicked his horse into a fast trot, heading in the general direction Alex took the night before, leaving Doc to follow in his wake.

Her trail led the men in circles, doubling back on itself several times. By midday they were frustrated, cold and hungry.

Doc grumbled under his breath as he studied the pattern of hoof prints from her stallion. "Damn." He hissed.

Morgan suddenly chuckled out loud. "She's good. Damn good. She doesn't want to be found, and we'll be like dogs chasing our tails trying to find her."

"Indeed." Doc confirmed. Gauging the direction of the sun, he estimated that less than four hours of daylight remained. By now he firmly believed he would be spending another night alone. "My children will be wanting their mother. What the fuck am I suppose to tell them?"

Morgan sighed loudly and tipped his hat back on his head. "I don't know Doc. Do you think she's still on the ranch somewhere?"

"I do. Alex wouldn't leave her children. It's the one trump card I have left to play." He turned to study his friend's wind-chapped face, noticed him shivering and knew it was time to call it a day. "Let's go home Morgan. It will be dark soon. We can try again tomorrow." He turned his horse around and started back to his house.

Morgan hesitated, looking out over the wintry landscape. "You gonna leave her out here alone, Doc?"

"Understand this," Doc halted his horse and looked back. Morgan had remained still, starring after him with disbelief written all over his face. "I'm not leaving her, Morgan. She left me. If she wants to spend another night sleeping in the cold, then by all means, I wish her good health. I'm going home to have a hot bath and a large brandy. There's no sense in leaving my children motherless and fatherless as well. One of us has to resume our parental responsibilities." He kicked his horse sharply, sending the animal into a quick trot.

Morgan wavered for several more minutes before deciding to follow Doc.

The second day into their search yielded the same results, as did the third and forth day.

"I know how worried you must be, Doc." Wyatt sympathized as he passed his friend a full glass of bourbon. "But I'm sure she's fine." Seated by a full fire in his study, Wyatt tried to comfort his friend during this difficult time.

"Oh, I'm not worried, Wyatt." Doc confided, "I passed worried three days ago. I'm well into petrified by now." He tossed back half the glass before setting it back on the table with a trembling hand. Weary, he rubbed his burning eyes, feeling a temporary relief that only sleep would permanently heal.

"Did you get any rest last night?"

"Some." He sighed. "Maybe an hour or two. Then Little John woke up crying for his mother again. He claimed he had a dream about Alex sitting outside by a campfire at a place called camel hump." He took another sip from his glass. "Ridiculous. I don't know of any such place."

"Josie was so sure you'd find her today. She even picked up some roses for you. Flowers are a good way to apologize, she said. She'll be hurt if you don't take them home with you."

"I will remember. Please tell her I said thank you. I've had no time to shop for flowers in the last several days. I just hope I find Alex before the blooms are spoiled."

"What about your dental office?"

Doc chuckled, hating how odd the sound was to his ears. "Mrs. Harmon took care of everything. Amazingly, she said not a word about who, what or how the damage occurred. I guess news travels quickly in this small town of ours."

"Good. Good." Wyatt replied.

Just then Morgan and Virgil entered. Both men had been out looking for Alex, but with no luck. "I guess splitting up didn't help much. Sorry Doc." Morgan said.

Doc gave him a slight nod before returning to his drink. "I intend to get good and drunk tonight. Lord knows I've earned it." He reached to fill his glass again, and sighed. "She really pisses me off."

"I can't help but feel responsible." Virgil mumbled. "If it hadn't been for all the trouble I caused… well, none of this would have happened." Weary more from his heart than physically; he walked over to the window to gaze out.

"Nonsense." Doc offered, "The fault is entirely my own. My temper. My stupid mistake. I misjudged things in the worse way."

Virgil sniffed loudly and blew his nose, keeping his back to the room.

"Stop worrying Virgil. It wasn't your fault. You had no idea what you were doing. Thank God, Alex stopped…"

"That's not entirely true, Wyatt." Virgil interrupted. "I had a sense of what was happening to me, and I just didn't care. Hell, I didn't even try to stop myself. No. The fault is mine."

"It was the drug, Virgil." Morgan responded with a gentle hand on his big brother's shoulder. "You were drugged. Under normal circumstances, you would never have behaved like that."

"No, of course not." Doc agreed. "Let's put this unpleasant affair behind us." He struggled to his feet. "Oh, I am tired! Pray, let my rest be undisturbed tonight and my son's sleep dreamless."

"Little John has nightmares?" Virgil asked, feeling his guilt double.

"No, not nightmares, dreams of his mother camping at a place called camel back or something like that." Reaching for his coat and hat, Doc buttoned up to face the cold walk home.

"Camel hump?" Morgan asked with sudden excitement.

"Yes." Doc paused feeling a tickle of the unreal in his stomach. "You're not going to tell me that's a real place?"

He nodded. "The children named it." Morgan replied walking forward to stand by Doc. "The rock formation looks like a camel's hump. It's favorite place of my daughter's. The children love to climb the rocks and sit on top. Alex and I have taken them there often to play."

"It could be a child's fantasy, Doc."

"Or not, Wyatt. It could also be a clue to the deep connection between mother and child. There's only one way to find out. Where is this place, Morgan?"

"You're going out there now?"

"Yes, right now. This very minute."

"I'll come with you, then." Morgan announced already reaching for his hat.

"No. I need to go alone. Just point me in the right direction and I'll find her."

"Head west, about two miles, then turn north when you reach the creek. Go another half mile and the rock formation will be on your left – two boulders sitting together to form a large one."

* * *

Traveling in the dark made it hard to be patient. It would be unreasonable to run his horse and risk the animal stepping into a gopher hole. A quick walk was all he dared manage. On a pole he carried a lantern; the rod held firmly in the leather scabbard. The light was dim, but it was better than nothing. There would be no moon tonight. Clouds had gathered during the afternoon and now a soft snow was falling. If he didn't find Alex tonight, tomorrow would produce better tracking results with help from the newly fallen snow.

Across his lap he held the dozen roses, carefully wrapped in paper. Hanging from his saddle was the canvas bag containing her belonging he had so thoughtlessly taken from her. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid_. The words had a deep painful meaning. They would be his mantra until he resolved all the differences with his wife.

Strange, but the past four days had not altered his decision about halting any further Guardian duties for Alex. His feelings on that matter had not wavered in the least. He wanted her to stay at home with the children, or go shopping, attend church services, garden, ride the horses, sew, redecorate the house, play with the fucking chickens, anything but hunt and kill the unnatural things that lurk in the darkness. No. There was no change in that aspect of his decision. But he did regret doubting her promise by taking her sword away. There he had crossed the line. In that respect he had greatly fumbled.

It was that fault he would offer his deepest apology, and hope she would accept it.

The meager distance passed quickly and it wasn't long before Doc saw a faint light from a campfire. Like a beacon it called to him, guiding him as he slowly approached. The witch didn't even turn around as he tethered his horse next to hers. She sat there, sipping a hot drink, bedroll laid out before the fire and the remains of her dinner still warming on a hot rock. With a large measure of bitterness, he thought she looked very comfortable and peaceful sitting there.

Silently he approached, knelt down and set her belongs in front of her. Across her lap he laid the roses. Then he sat down next to her letting his body brush against hers. In the last four days there had been enough space lingering between them. After tonight he would make sure there would be no more.

"I was wrong, Alexis, and I'm deeply sorry."

She said nothing at first, only made a small sound of acknowledgement as she gently fingered the canvas bag, but still refused to look at him. With a steady hand she caressed the rose blooms, leaning down to smell the fragrance they held. Then she sighed and reached for an empty cup.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" Her tone was even, calm, neither bitter nor was it cheerful or forgiving.

"Please." He whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loud he would break the spell of the moment.

Slowly she passed him a steaming cup and for the first time looked directly at him. Her expression was pain-filled, sorrowful, and unhappy. "Did you eat?"

"No."

Her eyes lingered on his face, and his fingers suddenly itched to touch her soft cheek. Before he could move she turned away and began to fill a plate from the pot simmering near the fire. The fine aroma of stewed rabbit drifted in the cold air, and his stomach rumbled loudly.

A soft burst of laughter escaped her lips. "I guess I don't have to ask if you're hungry."

He smiled in reply while accepting the hot food. "Thank you."

She nodded once and looked away, focusing on the fire once again. "I suppose you'll want me to return home after you eat."

"What do you want to do?"

She sighed heavily. "I want to stop feeling like I'm in prison. I want to stop feeling like I did something wrong. I want to feel that you trust me again. I've been sitting here thinking about moving out for awhile. Maybe rent an apartment in town."

Her announcement took his breath away. He paused halfway between taking another bite of the delicious stew. "You want to separate?"

Turning toward him, she nodded. "For awhile. Until we can sort things out."

Speechless, he forked another bit of stew into his mouth and suddenly felt like he would vomit. "I don't like that idea."

Ironically, she nodded. "Neither do I, but I haven't been able to think of a better alternative."

"How about if I apologize again and promise to never touch your things. Would that do?"

Her brows furrowed sharply. "John, this is no time to be glib."

"Truly, I'm not. I'm being perfectly serious. I made a complete ass out of myself, bruised your honor, and practically called you a liar. If you had been a man, you'd have good cause to shoot me."

She snorted with irritation. "Trust me that thought occurred to me as well and for awhile I considered doing just that, so I thought I'd better leave. That's why I'm sitting out here."

"We've been looking for you for four days, Alex. I was really starting to worry. Why didn't you come home?"

"I didn't trust myself to be around you. I was that mad, John, but I am sorry you were worried."

He sighed and looked up at the sky, feeling the snow land on his face. "It's snowing."

"I know."

Setting his empty plate to one side, he reached for her hand. Throughout their meager conversation she had continued to hold the roses, which Doc considered to be a good sign. "Come home with me." He pleaded, but knowing deep inside she would fight him.

She said nothing, only kept her eyes lowered and focused on the fire, her silence speaking louder than words. Slowly the snow began to build on her clothing.

"Alexis, please."

He could feel it, the yawning chasm between them growing wider and wider. Soon the distance would be too great to bridge, or to mend. "Your children need you." He pressed, hating that he had to resort to playing dirty. "I need you."

She sighed, shook her head and looked away.

"If it makes you feel better you can spank me this time."

He heard her chuckle softly and knew the moment was right to increase the physical contact. Raising her cold hand to his lips he blew his warm breath across her fingers. "Please."

Finally, she relented. Turning back to face him, she placed her hand gently along his jaw. "All right, John. We'll go home and see how things progress."

The rush of relief he felt brought him to the edge of tears. Together they packed up her campsite, doused the fire and loaded the horses with her bedroll and few camping tools. Once again he marveled at her proficiency. She had survived in the wilderness for four days with no outside help, and very little comfort from the house. She had hunted her own food, lived off the land, and still managed to cook a very tasty meal. Despite the cold and snow she would have stayed outside until she was ready to do otherwise. In short, she didn't need him to survive on her own, and it pained him to realize he was not so independent. During those four days she had reserved her strength and remained firm in her beliefs, and he had slowly fallen apart bit by bit until there was nothing left but the desire to give way to his tears.

But they were still at an impasse, even though he had apologized and admitted his mistake, something inside of Alex had changed. This drastic alteration had started with her confrontation with the succubus. He suspected it was birthed when she once again donned her black clothing and fastened her sword to her side. Her mindset had shifted for the worse with his anger and consequent punishment for her disobedience. His fight for control and dominance concluded her transformation with her walking out on him.

Cautiously, he watched her, looking for the usual spark, the everyday lightness she always seemed to carry with her, but he found none. The sullen and unhappy woman tightening the straps on her horse's saddle was not the girl he had married. "If you want to go back… I'll understand." He blurted without fully realizing the thought and words had been lingering on his lips.

"I beg your pardon?" Alex asked while glancing over the horse's shoulder.

"To the twenty-first century." He clarified. "If you want to return to your time I'll understand. I won't like it and will be terribly unhappy without you, but I'll understand."

She said not a word, pausing to fully look him in the face, her silence lingered like the falling snow lingered on the shoulders of her coat, and even though they stood a mere five feet apart, separated only by the horses that stood between them, Doc felt that the distance was far greater. The chasm had opened and spread beyond his control. He would never be able to reach her, hold her, make her stay with him now. It was too late.

She gave no response. And still the snow fell, and blew around them. Alex remained unmoved, frozen like a figure in a snow globe, her face expressionless, blank, and with each passing moment, Doc felt his hope slip further and further away, knowing deep inside that eventually she would leave. Slowly he nodded, and let his eyes slip to the side.

"John." He heard her sob, and somehow she stood before him. How and when she moved he couldn't say; only realizing she was there when he felt the impact of her body falling into his, her arms thrown around his shoulders, the weight of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. She kissed him, the sudden warmth of her lips taking him by complete surprise, the hungry movement of her mouth, and tongue making him weak and potent at the same time. "John." She cried against his lips.

He gave her no answer, unable to form words or thoughts beyond the intense feeling of relief that flooded his soul. Only the small sounds of passion escaped his throat, eagerly he returned her kiss, her embrace, sinking his hands into the depth of her loose hair before sliding them down her back to cup her ass and press her hard against his body.

Alex leaned back, and broke their embrace, splashing small kisses across his face and throat. "Don't you understand," She gasped. "It's not you I'm fighting against, it's myself. I'm at odds with the two sides of my life, trapped in the middle and unable to come to terms with who and what I really am. I don't want to leave. You are my life now; you and the children, and yet, I can't turn my back on who I once was. I've seen too much, know too much to turn a blind eye on the evil that lurks in the world around me. I've been sitting out here for four days hoping I would find a happy medium for both of us, but I've failed. Failed you, and failed my children."

Reaching out Doc grasped the wild strands of her hair blowing in the wind, pulling it back off her face so that he could see her more clearly. "Please don't think that way. You haven't failed me, Alex. You've been everything I have ever wanted in a woman, a lover and a friend."

She shook her head, sending blonde snowy tresses flying. "I'm a hypocrite. I begged Malachi for years to give me a home and children, thinking that I wanted out of the Guardians. But… now that I have the most perfect world, you as a husband, a beautiful home and two of the best boys a mother could ask for, I jump at the first opportunity to throw it all away and to chase after some dark creature. I pick a fight with you when all you were doing was protecting your world against harm, just like I guard the world against evil."

Doc leaned down and kissed her again, pulling her closer to shield them both against the cold. Even with the upset of the past several days, he would be hard pressed to find a more perfect moment than he had right now. "We'll work it out…somehow." He promised. "But not tonight. I don't want to argue anymore, and I don't want to sleep alone again, ever. Come home, Alexis, please."

"Yes, John." She conceded.

By the time they passed by Wyatt's house, the snow had picked up speed and strength. Coincidently, Wyatt was standing on his back deck, smoking a cigar as he contemplated the approaching storm when he saw two shadowy shapes led only by a meager lamp as they made their way across the field and toward the barn. He nodded with satisfaction, snubbed out his smoke and returned to the warmth of his house.

"Doc's back with Alex." He told Josie as he crawled into bed. "I just saw them going toward the barn."

"Thank God." She breathed, while setting her book to one side. "Do you suppose this will be the end of their disagreement?"

He chuckled low, leaning in to place a tender kiss on her shoulder. "Knowing Doc as I do, I'd have to say probably not. He's stubborn, but then again, so is Alex. Thank God they both love each other."

"They should compromise." She warned, turning onto her side to give him a heated look.

"That would be one option." Wyatt agreed, "Or, he could just get her pregnant again, which would also take her out of commission for the next year."

Passing a sensual hand over his shoulder and down his arm she smiled, raising one dark brow at his cocky attitude. "I've got a better idea…." Leaning in she flicked the tip of her tongue against his lower lip. "How about if you get me pregnant. I won't mind in the least if I have to take a passive role."

Wyatt said nothing, only giving her a quiet smile as he shifted his weight to settle between her legs, he immediately set to work with the firm intent on giving her everything she wanted.

The house was dark and silent when Doc and Alex entered through the kitchen. One or two soft lamps remained lit; otherwise the entire house had retired for the night. They lingered briefly in the kitchen just long enough to place Alex's roses in a vase of water before they tiptoed upstairs, stopping to peek in on the children before heading to their bedroom.

Without ceremony, she immediately returned her prized possessions to the closet. Glancing once directly at him as she stood on the stool she slipped the bag behind her hatboxes where it would be hidden from view, and yet close enough to be readily available if the occasion should arise.

"I need to bathe." Alex announced while shedding her heavy coat. She sat down on the edge of the bed and began to pull off her boots and clothing.

Doc watched her undress from across the room. Still chilled from the ride home, he placed several large logs of wood on the fire before pouring himself a large brandy. The knot of tension in his stomach slowly began to loosen as she moved about the room, into the bath and started to fill the tub. In silence he watched and wondered, not for the first time, if his world would ever be right again. With or without her, he was permanently altered. Their future as man and wife was unclear and frightening, and at the same time, his nomadic past as a gambler, loveless and alone, was no longer appealing. They had both been walking a tightrope these past few months. Somewhere between his world and hers they needed to find neutral ground or the struggle to stay balanced on the wire would kill them both.

She left the door to the bath open, and he could hear her sigh of contentment as she eased down into the hot water. Soft splashing sounds stirred him, as imaginary images began to take form. Closing his eyes he could clearly picture her naked within the tub, soap bubbles floating around her neck, white breasts rising and falling below the waterline, and her hair waving wildly around her smooth skin. The scent of roses drifted in the warm air, making him hard to the point of aching with the need he felt to be one with her.

Without thought or conscious decision Doc stripped bare, dropping clothing across the floor as he made his way toward the bathroom. Pausing at the doorway, he watched her, pleased that the reality was every bit as enticing as his vision. Alex rested, partially submerged, steam rising off the water, her skin was pink from the heat. Her wet head was tipped back, resting against the rim of the tub, eyes closed, as she dozed lightly.

His approach disturbed her, and she turned her head toward him raising one brow at his prominent erection. Slowly she sat up, silently inviting him to join her bath.

Doc didn't need to be asked twice. He quickly stepped into the hot water, drawing a sharp breath between his teeth when the near scolding water made contact with his skin.

"Give it a minute." She suggested. "The hot water gets more inviting as you get used to it." Turning to greet him, she slid her hand up to catch his hard cock as he eased down into the tub.

The combination of hot water and firm strokes from her hand had him very quickly quivering on the edge of orgasm. She pulled and squeezed, touching him just the way he liked, without being told where and when to apply pressure with her hand. At first he thought it was his need to join with her that made the contact so exquisite, but then it suddenly occurred to him that only her special gift allowed her the ability to pleasure him like this.

Before he could stop himself, he cried out when she pressed her thumb against his opening, pushing slowly, gently, until she broke through the barrier. "Jesus, Alex." He moaned, hips jerking upward, pumping in time with the rhythm of her hand. She worked him slowly, deliberately, letting the pressure build until he was beside himself, no long willing to stop the forward motion; he gave himself to her completely. Within moments he climaxed with violent force, crying out, powerless to stop his impulses, his body bent to her will utterly and without hesitation or regret.

He was still groaning deep within the back of his throat, her hand still firmly gripped around his throbbing cock when he heard her say, "It has occurred to me that I could torture you for hours, maybe days like this. I could make it very, very difficult for you to be angry with me." As if to illustrate her point her thumb pressed hard against his gland sending another wave of terrific pleasure shooting through his groin.

Unable to answer, he gripped the edge of the tub, and moaned.

"Oh, yes," she repeated, her mouth just inches from his ear, "it would be heaven and hell."

"Alex, please." The pressure was building again. His cock was still hard, so hard it hurt.

Reaching for her he pulled her in close and kissed her as if his very life depended on giving her pleasure. "Alexis," he breathed against her mouth, "Fuck me. Please, fuck me."

Without further hesitation, she slid her legs around his hips easing her hot flesh over him, consuming his need, his ache, until he was completely sheathed inside her body. He moaned again, both with pleasure and pain.

"Is this how it will be for us?" Alex asked in between the heated kisses he gave her. "Forever fighting and fucking until one of us leaves this earth?"

"Oh, God, yes!" Doc replied, before biting forcefully on her lower lip. Slipping his hand around her back, he guided her movements alternating between rocking against her and pumping.

She arched her back, her whole body shaking on the very edge of orgasm. "John." She panted, resting her cheek against the top of his head, her body losing cohesion as wave after wave coursed through her. "Hurry." She pleaded.

Eagerly he complied. Gripping her by the shoulders, he held her firmly and pumped hard, as hard as he could against her, his hips splashing the water against the sides of the tub, sending them both over the edge and beyond.

Afterwards, he carried her to the bed, too exhausted to do more than tuck her against his body and drift off to sleep. The battle between them temporarily postponed, until another day, week or month, he hoped, in the very distant future.

**The End... for now**


	6. Five Years, Six Months Later

**A/N: I'm terribly sorry it took so long to post another update to this story. For some reason, I had a hard time writing this chapter. I guess too much real life interfered with my pretend one. Anyway, I hope this segment was worth the wait. Leave me word so that I know whether you like it or not. **

**Hugs,  
****Bluemousey**

* * *

******May 1887 - Five Years, And Six Months After The Wedding….**

TOMBSTONE REWIND

A May morning in Kentucky is like nowhere else on earth. At least, that is how Alexis Holliday always felt. The early morning air was laced with the sweet fragrance of budding flowers, new grass and freshly turned soil. Underneath that aroma was the odor from the fifty or so horses they owned.

Just recently, the ranch's number of equines had increased with the birth of several new foals. A yearly event that Alex had always enjoyed witnessing. And when her husband permitted, she would participate in the births, standing in the stall right along side of the mare, encouraging her with soft gentle words, and if needed, secretly assisting the birth with her healing touch. But this spring he refused to allow her inside the barn and certainly not inside a stall with a horse struggling with contractions. Just thinking about it would send John into fits of anger. Anger that would turn into a thirty-minute lecture, laced with intermittent threats on the dangers of birthing foals. Alex knew better than to argue with him. In the last few months she was very aware she was in no condition to be handling horses.

Pausing on the rough path that led through the meadow, Alex braced her hands against her lower back and turned her face upward to taste the scented air. Sighing with contentment, she stood still, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face and the gentle sensation of the wind that blew the light green material of her day dress against her legs. The mauve colored shawl she carried was temporarily forgotten, draped loosely around her arms more for fashion then necessity.

"If only I had a camera." Doc Holliday wished as he observed the contented expression on his wife's face from several feet away. "Isn't that the phrase you always use when want to remember a particular moment?"

"Hmm." She murmured in agreement. "The wording is correct, but your subject matter is askew. There is nothing about my present appearance I particularly want to remember."

"I'm not talking about your memories, darlin. I'm the one who wants to capture the moment. You are merely the subject and I am the artist who has just been inspired."

Alex raised one sharp eyebrow at him. "As I recall, you were inspired exactly eight months ago. Behold, sir artist, your handy work." She gestured to her protruding stomach, circling the overextended orb that held her unborn child.

Doc chuckled softly and moved to stand next to his wife, reaching to thread his fingers around hers. "Surely, you're not unhappy?" He whispered, his voice low, sensual, and full of caring.

She shook her head and glanced down at her stomach, giving it an affectionate rub. "No, not unhappy, just impatient. When I get to this stage of my pregnancy I'm more than ready for the finale. As each week progresses, it gets more and more difficult to walk, sleep, stand, and sit. And yet I just get bigger and bigger until I think I shall pop."

His eyes turned warm and reflective as he gazed down at her, until finally he reached to place a gentle hand under her chin and tilted her face upward to receive his kiss. "Soon, my love. Just another few weeks and it will all be over."

She sighed in agreement and looked out over the field again. "Well… Speaking of babies, I think yours has run off again. I don't see him anywhere."

"He'll be back. He never goes very far." Placing a hand at a ninety-degree angle to his brow, Doc shaded his eyes and looked out over the surrounding fields. When his search produced no results, he placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

Immediately a large black head emerged from a high patch of grass further out in the meadow. A soft woof followed right before a black bullet streaked toward them. "See, he was stalking." Doc explained. "And we just interrupted him." He leaned down to pet the large Labrador as he came rushing over to greet his owner with an affectionate wiggle. "Such a good boy." Doc crooned to the dog, rubbing him gently behind the ears. "Good boy, Major. Good boy."

Alex looked bemused as her husband shared a private moment with his dog. And it really was _his_ dog. Major was almost three-years old now, but from the early age of a puppy, the dentist and canine had been almost inseparable. True, her boys, John Jr. and Alexander enjoyed and played with their pet, but a special bound existed between her husband and the dog he affectionately called Major. The name stemming from a joke Doc played on his father, referencing the elder Holliday's days in the military and the rank he earned while in service.

They went everywhere together, the dog trailing right alongside John like a shadow. To the barn, to Wyatt's house, to the town's saloon and even to work, where Major would sit obediently in his bed and wait until Doc was through with his patients for the day. Then into the one horse carriage he would jump, sitting proudly next to his master as they rode home together. On the rare occasions when Doc would have to leave the animal at home, Major would at first put up a fuss, but one firm word from her husband and the dog would let out one or two whines, just so his complaints could be heard, and then he would spend the rest of the day following Alex throughout the house or on her errands around the ranch. But when the hour grew late and the sun began to set, Major would refuse to budge from the back porch. There he would sit until Doc came home.

Alex had no doubt whatsoever that it was pure love. She chuckled soft as she watched her husband place several kisses on top of the dog's head. _I believe the damn dog gets more affection than I do_, she silently stewed.

Momentarily satisfied that all was well with his master, Major woofed loudly, spun around and streaked toward the house, happy and contented as a dog could be after a long morning run.

"It's getting late, Alex." Doc announced while slipping his hand under his wife's arm. "Let's go back to the house before you have to pee outside again, like you did yesterday, which, now that I think about it, was another Kodak moment. I can't wait to tell Wyatt how my wife passed water in the middle of our meadow."

She rounded on him, her face flushed with embarrassment. "John Holliday don't you dare, or I swear to God I'll…I'll..."

Doc raised both eyebrows at her and waited for her coming threat, making no effort at all to conceal his amusement.

"Ohhh!" She huffed with frustration, pushing against his arm until he released her. "You're a very mean husband."

Grinning from ear to ear, he chuckled warmly as he watched her storm several yards ahead before he quickly closed the distance and took her arm again, halting her progress. "I am indeed." He cooed, leaning in to place a warm kiss on her cheek.

"It's not my fault." She continued. "The baby puts pressure on my bladder. Besides that, it's not nice to tease your pregnant wife, John. I shall tell your father on you."

The smile he sported didn't lessen with her scolding. "But you're so much fun to pick on Alex, especially when you're eight months pregnant. I do believe your sense of humor decreases with each passing month." Gently, he eased her forward keeping his steps small and in time with the slow pace of her walk.

"See, that's why you're so odd. Most men would be tiptoeing around a grumpy pregnant wife, making sure they kept their distance, but not you. No, sir! You wallow in the moment. You laugh all day, and tease me until I laugh at myself, and, God help me, you get sexually aroused watching me waddle around the house."

Alex held up two fingers just inches from his nose. "Twice yesterday and once this morning, you insisted on engaging in heavy petting, getting me so stirred I can't think straight. It's odd, I tell you, damn odd." Shaking her head at him she carefully scrutinized his face, looking for any sign of mental illness. "I think Dr. Sims should be consulted. Perhaps he would have a tonic you could take, or something."

Doc only grinned back at her. "Your threats won't work, Alexis. I will not be intimidated, and you're too big to flip me over and pin me to the ground. I am going to have some fun, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

Again she stopped to scold him further. "See, that's what I'm talking about. You're completely bonkers."

"Bonkers? Is that a twenty-first century word?"

"It's a nineteenth century word now." She grinned.

He smiled down at her and kissed her again. "Do you think there's time for another personal and private encounter before breakfast?"

"Nope." She replied with a smug smile while nodded toward the balcony of their bedroom. "Your namesake is awake. See him there waiting for you." She raised her hand and waved at Little John standing at the railing watching their approach.

Doc looked up in time to see his son wave back. "I promised him we could go see the new foal this morning. I do believe he has it in his head to claim this addition as his own."

"A horse?" She gasped and glanced once again at the small figure standing on their bedroom porch. "Is he old enough to learn to ride on his own?"

"Well, maybe not a horse just yet, but a pony he could manage. He is almost six. I was riding ponies at his age."

She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip as she considered this new development. "I'm not so sure I like this idea." Alexis glanced over toward the barn as if the answers she sought would be found inside the large whitewashed building. The wide barn doors were open to let in the fresh morning air and inside Alex could clearly see the hive of activity that was a daily event for the horse farm. Working outside were several men, bringing in new bales of hay, leading horses out to pasture, and inside the stable hands were mucking out the dirty stalls.

Silently she began to tick off the names of the employees she saw. There was Sally's younger bother, James, leading a bay mare in her morning exercise. Lifting the hay off the wagon was Tim Brooks, now a fulltime member of their staff, not to mention a new husband to dear Sally. And inside she noted three other men mucking out the stalls, two she recognized by the familiar hats they always wore, but the third….

Turning deliberately toward the barn, she strained to get a better look. There was something familiar about the way the third man moved; the fluid grace of his movements as he bent to easily lift one forkful of dirty hay after another, before tossing it in a nearby wheelbarrow. The distance was too great to distinguish his facial features but she could see that he was tall, of a medium build, with dark brown hair that loosely covered his ears and the collar of his denim coat.

A rush of cold premonition raced up her spine when the man suddenly paused from his task to carelessly brush his hair off his forehead. Without realizing it, she gasped softly and took a step back bumping into her husband.

"Watch it Mrs. Holliday." Doc teased while reaching to steady her movement by cupping her shoulders. "I won't be able to accompany you on our morning walk if you bruise my toes."

His comment didn't register, her mind so focused on the stranger working inside the barn. Without taking her eyes off the building she pointed, "Who is that man, Doc?"

"Which man? I see several." He leaned in to lower his head level to hers in order to follow her line of vision.

"There, the dark hair fellow mucking the stalls." She gestured again, but by then Tim Brooks had finished unloading the wagon and was slowly moving the empty farm cart forward, crossing her line of vision and blocking the worker from view.

"Wait until Tim moves the wagon."

By the time Tim had eased the wagon forward, there were only two men working inside the barn. The third man – the dark haired stranger – had vanished.

"Are you speaking of Barry McPeak, and Dave Henry?"

"No. There was a third man working along side of Barry and Dave. He wasn't wearing a hat and I could see he had dark hair."

Without conscious thought, Alex stepped forward determined to get another glimpse of the unknown employee before Doc halted her movement. "What does it matter, darlin? Let's go in and start breakfast or I'll be late for my first appointment."

She hesitated, spurred on more by the flush of nervousness that had settled in her stomach then concern for husband's morning schedule. Gently, he pushed against her lower back in an effort to steer her toward the house. "If we hurry, I still might have time to tease you…"

His gentle banter was interrupted by Alex's laughter. "You're a sick, sick man, John Holliday."

"If what I feel for you is a sickness, Alexis, then I hope to be ill for as long as I live."

The bright smile she graced him with took his breath away as she slipped her hand in his and led him up the back porch and into the house, all thoughts of the mysterious worker temporarily forgotten.

* * *

"Sally, could you please ask Sun to freshen up the spare room and put clean sheets on the bed. Dr. Holliday's cousin, Sister Melanie, will be here in two days."

"Yes, Miss Alex." Sally replied, stepping lightly across the kitchen to carryout the instructions. Pausing before she reached the doorway, she looked back and frowned at Alex kneading bread at the kitchen counter. "If you need to rest, Miss Alex, I can finish the baking. The boys can keep me company in the kitchen while I work."

Alex looked up, her hands deeply embedded in a mound of bread dough. "No thank you, Sal. I'll rest later after I take some fresh loaves to the bunkhouse for the ranch hand's lunch. I want to speak to the foreman, Dick Thomas."

Glancing away as Sally skipped out of the room, Alex clucked her tongue loudly when she observed Alexander steal yet another of his brother's pencils, and throw it across the room. "Alex!" She scolded. "Go pick that up and give it back to your brother."

"Why?" The toddler asked with wide-green eyes blazing with inner mischief just aching to break free.

Alex rolled her eyes. _Here we go again,_ she thought.

Lately, Alexander's favorite game was asking why. Why does Daddy to go work? Why does Little John have to draw his A, B, C's? Why is Major, (pronounced Mah-er) black? Why are you cooking? Why do I have to wear clothes? And so on, and on, and on.

Sometimes, when she answered him, he was content for a while and the game ended quickly. But other times, like last night for instance, the game carried on for well over two hours. She was just about ready to scream, when John walked in the back door, home after a long day at work. Alex quickly deflected the next question with "Go ask your father." Five minutes later she was giggling with delight while watching Doc get sucked into the mystifying world of a toddler. After several rounds of "why", her husband was not so amused and was actively flashing her heated eyes and mumbling about being sabotaged.

"Why, Mama?" He was toddling over to fetch the pencil on his small yet sturdy two-year-old legs even as he tried to egg her on.

"Because, Lexalore," she teased, referring to his made up nickname, "if you don't, I'm going to hang you on the clothesline by your big toes."

"And," John Jr. piped in, "I'll pull your shirt over your head so you can't see while you're hanging upside down.

"Upside down!" Alexander echoed, and proceeded to bend over until his head was touching the floor. Pausing, he looked about the kitchen from his new perspective. "Upside down, Mama."

"How do I look upside down?" She asked while filling several bread pans with dough, which she would place to one side to rise and bake later on that afternoon.

"Fat." He replied with the honesty of a child.

"Mama's not fat, Lex." Little John countered. "She has a baby in her belly." This statement was said with the firm belief that his little brother would completely understand the meaning.

But Lex didn't understand. His little blonde head popped upright just a little too quickly and down he went, landing firmly on his butt. Alex waited for the ever-popular word to break wind, but instead Lex became very serious, a small frown evident on his face. "Naah."

"Yes, she does."

Alex thought her eldest son sounded quite sure of himself. So confident in fact, that he no longer bothered to look in Alexander's direction. With pencil in hand once again, he continued to diligently copy his alphabet like his mother had shown him.

Lex looked back and forth from his big brother to his mother, confusion written all over his cherub face. Finally, the toddler decided to examine Alex's belly just to be sure. "Me see, Mama." He asked reaching up to touch her stomach.

With great effort, Alex managed to knell on the floor next to Lex and let him examine her unborn child. After several minutes of poking, touching and listening he came to a solid conclusion. "Mama's fat." He announced with a firm nod of his head, and promptly returned to John Jr.'s side where he had been drawling lines on a spare piece of paper.

"And to think, all this time I thought I had a baby in my belly." She replied dryly while reaching for the edge of the counter to pull herself to a standing position. "Thank you for straightening me out Lexalore."

"Wel-cum."

"All done, Miss Alex." Sally announced as she breezed back into the room again.

"And not a moment too soon." Alex replied before making a beeline to the nearest bathroom.

* * *

The outside of the barn was a hub of activity as Alex toted two cloth bags filled with bread to the kitchen where the ranch hands ate their meals. Pausing to rest against a tree, she watched longingly as two horses got a bath, and several others were being exercised or left loose to roam about in the comfort of a fenced in field. It had been weeks since she last touched the smooth coat of a horse, and her palms itched to feel the muscular flesh ripple under her hand. It really wasn't fair for her husband put such ridiculous restrictions on her.

Shading her eyes against the bright sunlight, she noted Morgan sitting on the top rail of the fence talking to one of the jockeys they employed. When he saw her watching them he quickly excused himself and came running over to her side.

"God damn it, Alexis! If Doc saw you carrying all that he'd pitch a fit." The youngest Earp scolded while retrieving the bags from her hands. "What, exactly, do you think you're doing?

She rolled her eyes at his attitude. _Just what I need_, she thought, _another man to ask me silly questions and order me around._ "I thought I was toting bags of bread. Why? Did I look like I was dancing a jig or something?"

When his lips narrowed with irritation she scoffed loudly while waving away his concern. "Take it easy, Morgan. I'm pregnant, not an invalid. John is entirely too protective." Before he could bark another stupid question she turned and led him toward the ranch kitchen.

"How many loaves did you make?" He asked while trying to see inside each bag.

"Fifteen. Sally said she would finish the rest of the bread this afternoon."

"They sure smell good."

"Are you eating with the boys again today, Morg?"

"Yeah. When Louisa's not home I hate eating by myself. Beside, we got a poker game set for after dinner tonight. I think Doc's coming too. The guys always get so excited when he sits in. I swear it's like watching them play king of the hill rather than poker. Each one tries to knock your husband off his pedestal." He chuckled warmly. "Doc's still as cool as a cucumber. He just sits there and smiles that obnoxious, cocky smile of his. You know the one I'm talking about?"

She nodded, making no effort to hide her amusement. The facial expression Morgan was referring to was one Alex always called Doc's 'come and get me' face.

Morgan snickered loudly. "One-by-one, he takes their money. Thank God we're just betting with pennies or you'd have some very pissed off ranch hands."

"They'd be more than pissed if they found out how easily he can manipulate the deck. Remind him to take it easy, Morg. If he wants to shark someone he can do it the next time we go to New York. No one knows him up there."

"I'll keep an eye on him, Alex. Don't worry."

They had crossed the one and a half acre of land that separated Alex's house from the working part of the ranch. Stopping just outside of the ranch's kitchen, she reached to open the door for Morgan.

"When does Lou come home?" She asked while directing him to deposit the bread on the kitchen counter.

"Next Wednesday."

"Have you heard from her since she left?"

"Just twice. Once to say she arrived in safety, and then I got another letter yesterday. She's having a really good time visiting with her mother and sisters. I'm glad for her, but I miss the company. The house is too empty without her and the children."

Alex paused to observe the wistful express on Morgan's face. He looked and acted every bit the family man now and listening to him talk about being lonely made her wonder if Doc would feel the same way if she were to take a vacation on her own.

Since moving to Kentucky, Morgan and Louisa had been busy building a family of their own. They were both the proud parents of a six-year old girl, and a six-month old boy. After the birth of their son, Alex asked Lou if she wanted more children Louisa replied that two were enough for her right now. Being two months pregnant at the time, Alex could understand what she meant. As much as she loved her children and Doc, pregnancy could be an inconvenience sometimes. Your body gets out of shape as well as your mental outlook. Fluctuating hormones had you crying or angry when you had no idea why, and as your pregnancy progressed you just grew more and more uncomfortable.

Glancing around the large kitchen, Alex noticed it was very empty. "Where's Danny. I'd thought he'd be busy cooking." Peering in the two large ovens she counted three turkeys and one large roast. On top of the stove soup was simmering next to a large pot of beans and rice.

"Well, it looks like he's got things under control." Turning, she started for the door, "I need to find Dick Thomas, Morgan. Any idea where he might be?"

"Probably in the barn. Why?"

She managed to hold back a very unfeminine curse and stopped with her hand resting on the doorknob. She had promised Doc she wouldn't enter the barn. If she tried to sneak in, he was sure to find out. "Shoot."

"What's the matter?"

"I need to speak to him, but I promised Doc I wouldn't go in the barn until after the baby is born. He's such a pain in my ass sometimes."

Morgan chuckled softly. "I'll go get Dick and send him up to the house to see you."

"Oh, don't bother." She groused as she stepped out the door. "It's probably nothing but pregnancy nerves." Huffing with frustration she began to walk back toward the house.

Confused, Morgan trailed close behind. "I don't understand?" He stuttered. "Did something happen?"

She stopped and spun around. "Did we hire anyone new lately?"

"New?" He echoed without comprehension.

"Yes, new! As in a new ranch hand."

Morgan blinked. "No, not that I'm aware of. Why?"

Again she huffed loudly and continued walking home. "I'm clearly out of my head that's all."

Morgan reached out and snagged her by the upper arm. "Alex, what's the matter?"

She paused, and looked him square in the face wondering if she should really tell him what she was thinking. "You'll think I'm nuts, Morgan. Really, really nuts."

He shrugged with a grin. "So. Won't be the first time."

Breathing in deeply she gathered the courage to explain. "This morning while on my morning walk with Doc, I saw three men working inside the barn. Two I recognized as Barry McPeak and Dave Henry. But the third man…" Suddenly tears sprang to her eyes. Where the emotion came from she had no idea, but it came at her with such force that her chest ached. In a quick burst of air she let lose a loud sob that had Morgan reaching to hold her by the shoulders.

"Alex, what is it?" Fear lit his face, laced with distress over her delicate condition.

"I think I saw…" She hiccupped, gulped in a mouthful of air and sobbed out loud again. "Morgan, I could swear I saw Malachi in the barn working along side of Barry and Dave."

His head wavered back and forth slowly, brows pinched together sharply with concern. "No, Alex. Malachi is dead. You were mistaken."

"I know that in my head, but…" she sniffed loudly, causing Morgan to reach into his jacket for his hanky. Passing her the blue paisley cloth he waited patiently until she had blown her nose. "From a distance, it looked like him, moved like him, and even wiped his hair off his forehead in the same manner. Morgan, for just a moment I was so happy, and at the same time frightened."

"You're tired, that's all. Probably not sleeping well, tossing and turning half the night. I know. Lou was the same way toward the end of both her pregnancies."

Alex nodded, feeling silly for speaking aloud her fears, and yet, voicing them to her friend did very little to ease them. The dread she felt was still latched firmly inside her chest, refusing to let go. "I know. You're right, I'm just tired." She sighed, while wiping her eyes dry. "Walk me home, Morgan. I want to lie down."

After leaving Alex tucked safely in her bed, Morgan continued to worry about what she had said. Sure she was pregnant, and expecting mothers sometimes did and said silly things, but… It was lunchtime, and even though his stomach growled loudly, Morgan ignored it and went in search of Dick Thomas.

He found the foreman on the second story of the barn, nursing a sick mare with the local veterinary. Both the men mumbled softly to each other, making the topic of their conversation hard for Morgan to hear as he approached. "Dick." He nodded once to the foreman and once to the vet. "What's the matter? Is she sick?"

Dick nodded a greeting back. "She's been off her feed the past two days. This morning I found her lying in the straw. It's probably nothing but since the doctor was here at the ranch anyway, I asked him to take a look. We're going to give her some rich feed mixed with molasses for a day or two. That should perk her up."

Morgan turned to the sedate horse and ran a gentle hand over her withers. "Dick, I was just speaking to Mrs. Holliday and she says she saw someone new this morning. I told her she was mistaken that we haven't taken on a new hand. Tell me I didn't just lie to my best friend's wife."

Dick stuck a piece of straw in his mouth and sucked. "Nope. You didn't lie. But now that you broached the subject, we could use an extra hand or two. Some of my guys have been working double shifts, staying up late with the pregnant mares and such."

Morgan scratched gently behind the sick horse's ears. The animal grunted softly and leaned into his hand. "I'm okay with the idea, Dick, but let me run it by Wyatt and Virgil when they come back from the Baltimore race. I doubt it will be a problem though. Have you got someone in mind?"

"Yeah. Dave Henry's son is of working age. School will be out soon and a teenage boy needs to stay busy, and Tommy Folks was just laid off at the mill. I thought I'd talk to him too."

"Right." Morgan nodded thoughtfully while he continued to stroke the horse. "But these guys haven't set foot on the ranch yet?"

"No, sir." Dick replied firmly. "I don't hire unless you give me the go ahead. Mrs. Holliday was mistaken."

"Yeah." He sighed eager to let the matter drop before Dick got the wrong idea. _No sense in stirring up talk about Doc's wife_, he thought. He nodded once more to Dick who was helping the veterinary gather his tools and other instruments as he prepared leave.

Things might have returned to normal right then and there. Morgan was anxious to write off Alex's sudden lapse of sanity as pure hysterics. Even as he continue to slowly stroke the sick horse, he was mentally preparing how he would tell his friend she was seeing things, when his hand passed over two small bumps high on the horse's neck hidden by the dark red mane. Parting the long hair, Morgan leaned in to get a closer look and found two puncture wounds. With his heart hovering in his throat he ran his fingertip over both wounds again, wanting to believe anything, anything at all, then what he feared in his heart. "Dick, did you see this?" Gesturing to the sores he stepped back to let the foreman have a look.

Dick sucked loudly on his straw, and replied, "Yep. Fly bites."

"At this time of year?"

"Well… it is a bit early, but there are bugs about Morg. Horse can't smack them away that high up on the neck." Stepping back, he reached for the horse's blanket and tossed it over the animal's back.

"Right, just fly bites." Turning away, Morgan descended two stone ramps until he reached the ground floor. The reply he issued to the foreman was automatic. In his heart he knew it was all a damn lie.

* * *

_Some dreams won't let you go. They stay with you, like stale perfume or the lingering odor of garlic from the meal you ate the night before. They replay over and over again in your head. It might just be snatches of images, like viewing a snapshot, or you could get the entire reel, a performance from start to finish. __If you're prone to having good dreams this condition is not a problem, but if your unconscious thoughts are full of sinister, frightening things, then your sleep patterns are sure to be disturbed. _

_That is what happens to me – the darkness I mean. If I dream, which isn't often, I am often plagued by malevolent shadows, and hiding within the darkness are things that want to rip me apart. Common sense tells me to run when confront by the unknown, but a part of me, buried somewhere deep inside, is trained to stand against it, attack, and then kill it._

_Gradually, over the years of my marriage, my bad dreams are being replaced by joy. Slowly, the troubled memories within me are fading, lessening each year, month or day by the happiness my love brings to me. I have no doubt, none whatsoever, that without him my life would be in shambles._

Doc Holliday ran the tip of his finger slowly over the last line, as if tactile contact would give him a deeper more detailed understanding of the woman who had written the words. Lately, she had displayed nothing but happiness, and yet these passages were filled with the un-spilt sadness of a troubled mind, and it worried him greatly. Gently, he closed the book, careful to reposition the diary exactly as he found it, leaving no evidence that he had trespassed in his wife's private world.

From the bed he heard Alex sigh sweetly in her sleep, and in the partially lit room he could see her face was peaceful. He hoped that if she dreamed they were good dreams, filled with lightness and love. If he could, he would orchestrate her slumber like he planned her waking moments and the life they lived together. But that facet of her existence was beyond is control, and after reading her latest journal entry he felt hopelessly frustrated.

Easing into his favorite chair with a glass of brandy and a smoke, he prepared to relax for a while before retiring for the night. There had been several peculiar incidents of late that had his mind churning with troubled thoughts. Alexis's evening journal entry was just one of the odd events that had occurred within the past two days. Until he could make sense of things, sleep would be very far off.

The poker game he took part in tonight was meant to be relaxing and to ease the tension of day-to-day living. Alex jokingly called it a male bonding session, and in a way, he supposed, she was right. The competitive gaming was lighthearted and the lively discussion was overabundant. Banter and teasing made up for most of the talk, intermixed with debates and dialog about the horses and work on the ranch.

Doc was glad Morgan had been there to take part in the evening. Wyatt and Virgil's absence was not so readily felt with at least one Earp represented. With his dental practice booming, he was unable to take part in the daily happening of the ranch and was often out of touch with the latest problems or developments. But with Morgan by his side he would not look like a floundering fool, and any questions or complaints that arose, would be quickly and easily handled.

Again his mind wandered over the many topics discussed throughout the night. Breeding mares, birthing foals, exercising, racing, jockeys, and of course any illnesses within the barn were always discussed with the utmost seriousness. When one stable hand remarked about the mystery ailment that surrounded four listless horses, many of the men expressed concern. Concern that had Doc's attention wandering away from the full house he held in his hand. Automatically, he shifted his eyes toward Morgan who looked just as worried.

It was at that point when Doc was certain two plus two equaled five, which meant something was seriously wrong. Combine that sixth sense with Alex's nervous hallucinations and dark journal entry… and it was enough to have him seriously thinking about staying home for a few days.

Glancing toward the bed he felt an overpowering protective urge for the woman who held his heart, and at the moment, his unborn child. She was just a few weeks from delivery, and as her time grew closer, he was becoming more and more anxious for her safety. The last thing they both needed was an unidentified ranch hand, nightmares, dark journal entries, and sick horses. But, if the recent events were just the product of his active imagination and Alex's pregnancy jitters, why then did he feel so on edge, so frightened.

Wearily, he rubbed his tired eyes, resting his head in the palm of his hand for just a moment. Immediately, a weightless drifting sensation passed through him - sleep pulling and tugging on his sleeve. _I should go to bed,_ he thought as he sighed with fatigue while looking up at his peaceful wife and the easy way she slept tonight. Every fiber of his being longed to cross the room, remove his clothing, and crawl into bed beside her. There he would indulge in her taste, her smell, and the soft texture of her skin. Lying beside her he could play with her hair, enjoy the floral fragrance from her shampoo and let the peace she held flow over his weary body until he joined her in slumber.

Again he rubbed and pawed at his eyes. Too tired and senseless to go to bed. When he looked up again he was keenly aware she was watching him.

Curled up on her side like a child, her bright-green eyes visibly warmed as he caught her gaze. One soft cheek rested against the back of her hand, her long hair loose and flowing over her shoulders framed her face in blonde waves. Poking out from the top of the blankets was a smooth, pale shoulder draped in a sleeveless white nightgown made of cotton, and trimmed with yellow lace. As she continued to stare a warm sensual smile emerged. "You look like you lost all your pennies tonight." She teased.

Doc answered with a soft snort. "Hardly." He nodded toward his dresser where a canning jar sat, filled to the brim with pennies.

She beamed a grin at him. "I'm so proud."

He shrugged with indifference while snubbing out his smoke. "Like candy in a candy store."

"Hmm. It seems you can take the gambler out of the card game, but you can't take the card game out of the gambler." One delicate finger slipped out from under her cheek and beckoned for him to come closer. "Come to bed, John and keep me warm."

The glass he held tipped up, and he downed the rest of his brandy. "Yes, ma'am." He agreed while lifting his weary body from the chair. Within seconds his clothes were shed and he eased into the bed behind her, finding the sheets warm and inviting against his bare flesh.

Spooning against her back, he groaned with contentment as he rapped one arm over her waist to caress her overextended stomach; the smell of her freshly washed hair was the answer to all of his worries and fears. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I suppose. As well as can be expected." She turned to look over her shoulder at him, "What about you? Did the poker game relax you at all?"

Leaning up on one elbow he looked down at her. "Our hired help is a good source of entertainment. I believe Danny, the cook, has more stories that I do." While he talked he was gently passing his hand back and forth over her hip, buttocks and thigh. "What did you do tonight, while I was gone?" He asked before leaning down to place a kiss on her shoulder.

"Knitted. I finished that sweater for Johnny. If he doesn't grow too much this summer he'll be able to wear it when the weather turns cold. If not, I'll give it to Lex."

Alex was keenly aware that her husband wasn't listening to a word she said. His chitchat was all politeness and nothing more. Not that she minded. Underneath his detached conversation, she sensed that he was preoccupied with something more important, something troubling. Whatever was on his mind Doc would keep to himself until he was ready to talk about it, so there was no sense in her asking a lot of questions right now. But there was one thing she could do to take his mind off his troubles, and judging from the slow caressing stokes of his hand he was already contemplating more agreeable discussions.

She shifted her bottom, purposely bumping up against his groin, causing Doc to let out a warm breath that was very close to a moan. When his hand rounded over her ass to slip underneath her nightgown she smiled, knowing she had given him just the signal he was looking for.

Warm fingers slipped inside her crack, easing forward, then back and then forward again until the tip of his finger managed to rub against the hard bud between her legs. A shock of pleasure had her groaning deep in the back of her throat. "I can see you're not in the mood to talk." She panted.

His finger and thumb surged forward once more and pinched her tender flesh. When she jerked he chuckled warmly against her ear. "No, I'm not. And neither are you, so shut up, Alex."

She laughed at his vulgarity, but complied to his wishes anyway. Besides, the skilled movement of his hand was making it very hard for her to think straight. Words would be utterly useless right now with him poking and rubbing her just the right way.

Her climax was sudden and sharp. From behind her she heard John cooing soft words of love against her ear, his breathing as quick and hot as her own. "When will I ever get used to how easy it is to pleasure a pregnant woman."

"Oh, God, never I hope." She replied before he pinched her again making her jump and jerk against his hand.

Alex felt him withdraw his hand, reposition his hips closer and slide his hard cock between her legs. Worried that he might try to penetrate her she started to protest, but John quickly soothed her fears.

"Shhh, it's all right. I've something else in mind." His hand wrapped over the front of her hip to slip between her legs, cupping his erection against her warm, wet flesh. "Squeeze your thighs together, tight." He told her.

She did as he asked and felt her body surround him.

"Tighter. Tighter."

Alex quickly discovered that when he pulled back his hips he was able to rub the entire length of sensitive flesh between her legs, and his fingers in the front of her groin kept him pressed firmly against her, almost slipping inside, but not quite.

He pushed forward, and the friction increased, the tip of his cock bumping up against her clit. "That's good…" he groaned. "That's so good."

The back and forth motion was intoxicating; the gentle caresses from his fingers soon had her dangling on the edge. "Tighter, Alex." He panted. "Think about me being inside you. Filling you completely and how good we fit together." The friction suddenly increased when he pushed a little harder, a little faster.

She squeezed her thighs tighter and heard him moan, felt him tremble against her back. Reaching down between her legs she covered his hand with her own pressing him firmly where she needed it the most.

The pressure was enough to send her spiraling out of control with John following close behind.

"My God." Doc's climax was explosive and endless. Over and over, wave after wave of electrifying pleasure coursed through his body. It felt like eternity before he could draw a full breath.

When they were finally able to calm their racing hearts, Alex rolled over to face her husband who lay flat on his back half unconscious. "We should have more discussions like this." She teased while leaning in to kiss him.

Doc reached up with one weak hand to stroke her face. "After you have this baby, I've got plans for you, darlin. Big plans."

"And I'll be waiting for you. Just name the day and hour."

He chuckled and offered her a warm smile. "My sweet, soft European whore."

She laughed, and lean down to kiss him once more. "And don't you ever forget it, John Henry Holliday."

In the early morning hours, before the sun had risen, Alex woke with the overwhelming urge to pee. Most nights she took her little walk into the bathroom at least twice. There were times when only a little water came out at one time, so she figured it was just the baby standing on her bladder that made her so uncomfortable.

_Hey, in there_, she wanted to yell, _would you mind standing on another internal organ. The ring around my ass is starting to be permanent._

Scooting toward the side of the bed, she pushed herself to a sitting position and quickly made her way to the bathroom by feeling her way in the dark so she won't wake her husband. Relief was immediately felt just as soon as she was able to let her bladder go. _Almost wet the bed_, she thought, and then had to stifle a giggle when she imagined what John would have said if she had.

_"Wyatt,"_ he would groan, _"Alex's pregnancy grows more distressing by the day. First she peed in the middle of our meadow, and now she's wetting the bed. Can I please sleep at your house tonight?"_

A sharp snort of laughter leaked free before she quickly covered her mouth. Her imagination would get her into trouble if she wasn't quiet. John didn't like being woken in the middle of the night, and was prone to snap harshly when his sleep was disturbed.

When Alexis was done answering Mother Nature's call, she straightened her nightgown, smoothing out the wrinkles before she gingerly made her way back to the bed. Pausing by the footboard, she wrapped one hand under her belly and waited for the baby to settle down.

She never mentioned her concerns to her husband, Allie or Louisa, but she was certain this pregnancy was different then her first two. The baby was so active at times it felt like he was dancing a mamba inside her womb. And then there was her size. She had bloomed, bigger and heavier than with Little John or Lex, leading her to wonder if she was giving birth to future football player. In her heart she knew without a doubt this delivery would hurt, hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, which struck fear in her soul just thinking about what she would have to endure.

_This will be my last baby,_ Alex thought, which would have been an alien concept for her six years ago, but now…. _I just hope John doesn't mind._

A sound to her right stirred her from her thoughts, and almost at the same time the baby grew quiet. She nearly screamed from fright, before she recognized the tall shadow standing by the French doors that led to the balcony. "John?" she called stepping closer to reach for his arm.

Her hand made contact with the cotton sleeve of his shirt, which caused her to wonder why he had bothered putting on pajamas. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" She pressed, while rapping her fingers around the tight muscle in his arm.

The cold clammy feel of his skin was easily felt through his clothing. _Cold._ She pondered. _Is this why he got dressed?_ But the longer her hand remained in contact with his body, the coldness she felt seemed unusual, almost unnatural. And still he hadn't answered her or bothered to look her way.

"Didn't you hear me? I asked if I…"

"I heard you." He replied in a dry voice that sent a sharp chill racing up Alex's spine. "No, you didn't wake me. I've been awake for a long, long, long time."

Slowly he turned his head, and Alex clearly saw the dark outline of his mustache and high cheekbones in the moonlight. She gasped loudly and released him, feeling the pressure of an unreleased scream building in her throat, causing her to stumble backward until she hit the wall. The impact freed her penned up voice, and she shrieked at the top of her lungs when his silver eyes fell upon her face.

* * *

The sharp clang from a dropped knife rang out in the quiet kitchen. Doc jerked his head up from reading the paper and cast a weary eye at his wife. With great effort she leaned down to pick up the utensil and tossed it in the sink. "Alexis, sit down and drink your tea."

She paused from her task, her expression full of worry and guilt that have very little to do with the morning meal. "But… I was going to make you some more toast."

"I don't want anymore toast! I want you to sit down!" He snapped and immediately felt guilty for losing his temper when she quickly looked away in an effort to hide her tears.

Tossing the paper to one side, he struggled to his feet, crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Alex's extended waist from behind. "I'm sorry." He whispered in her ear, before placing a tender kiss against the shell. "I'll try to be less grumpy."

Alex nodded but still kept her head lowered. Tears she had been shedding on and off since last night began to drip down her cheeks again. Grabbing a nearby dishtowel she quickly dried her face. "No. It's my fault. You're tired from lack of sleep, and now you have to work all day. Maybe I should stay in one of the guest rooms until I deliver." She mumbled, still visibly upset.

"I'm tired because I stayed up until the wee hours playing poker. The nightmare was not your fault." He explained. "Besides, I could never sleep without you. You know that, Alex."

"What if I have another nightmare and wake you again?"

"Then I'll hold you until you feel better, just like I did last night." Again he kissed her gently, nuzzling up against her cheek. "You're not sleeping in the guest room. Understand?" He told her in a soft comforting voice.

The memory of her high-pitched screams still echoed in his head. He had been dead to the world one minute and sitting upright the next, heart pounding like a drum inside his chest, and every hair on his arms standing on end. It had taken him an hour to calm her down, and most of that time was spent trying to make heads or tails out of her hysterical crying and blubbering. Even now he still only had a vague idea what her nightmare was about.

And, to make matters worse, she had wet the bed too.

He changed the sheets by himself after ordering her to sit still, worried more about her falling in her excited state. Afterwards, he helped her change her nightgown and then tucked her back into bed, leaving a low burning oil lamp lit as a night light. By then it was almost dawn. Altogether, he may have gotten five hours of sleep. Suppressing a weary sigh, he knew it was going to be a very long day.

"Mama?" Lex called from across the room.

Refusing to release his hold on Alex, Doc looked over his shoulder at his youngest son who was sitting in his highchair, making a mess out of his oatmeal. "What is it, Alexander?" He asked.

"Done." The little boy called back, flinging his arms high over his head to show his father he had finished his breakfast.

Doc rolled his eyes when a spoonful of wet cereal went flying through the air to splatter on the floor behind the baby's chair. "You made a mess, son." But not for long, he thought, as he watched Major leap to his feet to lap up the spilt food.

"Why?" Lex asked with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

Again Doc rolled his eyes. "Not a chance, sport. I'm not taking the bait this morning."

"Why, Da?"

He felt Alex's body shake with contained laughter. "It's a fight you can't win. I swear he's more calculating then you are, John."

"Hmm." He murmured while hugging her close. "The Holliday men improve with each generation, darlin. By the twenty-first century we'll be damn close to omniscient."

Alex broke the embrace and walked over to wipe Lex's face and hands. "There you go little man." She groaned as she lifting the baby from his chair.

"Alexis! You'll hurt yourself." Doc scolded as he moved in to help her.

"And you'll get your suit dirty if you touch him." She replied while lowering the baby to the floor.

"Dirty." Lex mimicked to his father with a scolding look on his face.

"Dirty, Daddy." John Jr. sang out.

"Isn't that the truth." Alexis confirmed with a provocative gleam in her eyes. She winked at him once and offered him the first smile he had seen that morning.

"Are you working late today, John?"

"No." He answered after swallowing one last mouthful of coffee. "As a matter of fact, I'll be home early today, so I figured I'd leave Major with you." Leaning down he gave the dog an affection pat on the head, feeling guilty about leaving the Labrador behind.

"Early? Why?"

"Why?" Lex peeped.

Ignoring his son, Doc leaned in to kiss his wife. "Because, Mrs. Holliday, I plan on taking us out for dinner tonight."

Alex gave him a look that said he was nuts. "Impossible. You'll be too tired, and I'm eight months preggers. Let's stay home and eat pizza."

"Pizza? You want to make pizza?"

"No, silly." She explained while slipping easily into his arms. "I'll call Pizza Hut and have two large pies delivered."

"Very funny, Alex." He answered dryly.

"Oh, all right, Dominos then, or Papa John's"

He shook his head at her inside joke. "Thank God, no one else but me understands what you're talking about." Kissing her one last time he continued. "Have Sun or Mrs. Li cook. I should be home by three o'clock." He ran an affectionate hand over her cheek, looking for any new sign of stress in her eyes, but found only the remnants of last night's upset. "I plan on taking a nap this afternoon, Mrs. Holliday, and I want you naked and waiting for me when I get home."

She smiled this time, reaching behind his back to give his buttock an amorous squeeze. "We aim to please, Mr. Holliday."

* * *

Alex and Doc weren't the only ones who had a restless night. Morgan's sleep was just as turbulent and short. Mundane conversations from the poker game kept circulating through his mind making it very hard to relax, but what had him awake until three o'clock were expressions of concern, bordering fear, from two of the stable hands who had spent the day caring for the sick horses.

_Found her lying in the straw. Took three of us to get the mare on her feet… _

_Her eyes had that far off look. Don't think she'll make it through the night…_

_No sign of disease, but her gums were white; veterinary thinks she may have a tumor…_

At one point during the game he caught Doc watching him intently, and it was that moment when Morgan knew he wasn't imagining things.

_Come morning, I'm making a thorough check on the horses,_ he decided. Moments later he was sound asleep.

He slept in, which was something he normally didn't do, and after having a cold breakfast he went to the barn to check on the pregnant mares, curious if any new foals were born during the night. The sky was overcast and threatened rain as Morgan strolled across the lawn. There would be no sun today, and the solemn thought had him feeling depressed and gloomy.

He stopped suddenly when he heard barking. Looking about, he spotted Alex and her sons playing outside with Major. The boys were keeping the dog busy by tossing a bright red ball for the Labrador to chase. Alex sat reclined in a chaise lounge, her stomach sticking out like a small mountain. He waved, and smiled when she waved back. The relief he felt knowing the dog was keeping watch over the family while Doc was at work was unexpected and odd, but the feeling was indisputable just the same.

After getting a report on the activity from the night before, he went in search of Dick Thomas. If there was a sick horse on this ranch he wanted to see it personally.

The foreman led the youngest Earp to a closed-up stall. As they approached, and right before Dick pulled back the sliding door, Morgan noticed the silence. _No movement from within,_ he thought and the air on the back of his neck suddenly stood up.

Dick withdrew the straw he was sucking on and nervously licked his lips. "We found her this morning. The vet will do a postmortem as soon as he's done looking at the others."

"Others?" Morgan asked, feeling the nerves in his stomach jump to new heights.

"Two other mares are visibly sick, and one we're not so sure about. Could be gas, could be something else." With that said, he jerked the door open to reveal the covered body lying on the stall floor.

Showing not an inkling of the fear he was feeling inside, Morgan walked directly toward the tarp-covered horse and pulled back a corner to reveal the head. He gasped out loud when he saw it was the same horse with the fly bites from the day before. With one sweep of his hand he pulled back the animal's mane revealing two deep puncture wounds that looked every bit like a bite wound. _From the undead,_ he thought.

Hot anger surged through him as he turned to confront the foreman. "Fly bites Dick?" He snapped. Before the other man could comment, Morgan covered the horse again and stood. "I want every horse in this stable checked. Better yet, I want every horse loose in the field corralled and placed back in their stalls. And then I want guards placed at every level of the barn. Take one of your best men and watch the outside of Mrs. Holliday's house, as well. There's something terribly wrong on this ranch and until we find out what or who it is, I want every precaution taken." He held up his hand to ward off the foreman's excuses. "Hire men from town if you have to, but only the ranch hands are allowed inside the stalls with the horses. Got it?"

When the foreman started to argue, Morgan pointed a stern finger at his head and yelled. "Do it now, Dick, or I'll fire your ass and find someone who will!"

Leaving the foreman steaming in his own juices, Morgan went to saddle his favorite horse. The fatigue he was feeling early had evaporated, leaving behind a feeling of being disconnected as if all he was seeing and feeling was a dream. But, deep down inside he knew it wasn't.

He rode hard toward town. The scenic journey went unnoted in his conscious mind. Trees, animals, the temperature of the air, all remained one big blur. In his head he was tallying a checklist for what might soon be a life or death situation. The post office was his first stop, and after loosely tying his horse out front he hurried inside. The greeting he received when he crossed the threshold was friendly and cordial, but that too went unnoticed.

"I need to send a telegram to Tombstone, Arizona, right now!"

The second item on his agenda would not be so easy to accomplish, but Morgan knew it had to be done. The sun was just cresting the noon sky. Its trip down hill was approaching quickly. _Six, maybe seven hours of daylight left,_ he thought. _Not near enough time._ With butterflies fluttering in his stomach, he pushed open the door to Doc Holliday's dental office.

"Morgan." Doc called in a cheerful greeting, walking forward with an outstretched hand. "Well, this is a surprise. I believe this is the first time you have ever set foot in my office." Grasping his hand firmly Doc leaned in and whispered, "Are you ready for me to pop your cherry?"

Morgan barely managed to stifle his sudden laughter. "Jesus, Doc. You certainly have a way with words. But, to answer your question, no, I'm not here about my teeth. I need to talk to you," he passed a worried glance toward Mrs. Harmon, Doc's receptionist, "in private."

The dentist's beaming grin suddenly slid off his face. "What's wrong? Is it Alex?"

"No." Morgan quickly soothed. "No. Alex is fine. She was outside with the boys and Major the last I saw her. "

Doc's relief couldn't have been more profound. Gasping lightly, he rubbed a trembling hand over his mustache. "Good. Good." He chucked softly with nervousness. "Sorry Morg, I don't mean to panic. I guess I'm as much on edge as Alex is these days. You know how it is."

"Sure. I know. Have you got time for a beer Doc?"

"Yes, actually. I was just stepping out for lunch. Why don't you join me?" He reached for his coat and hat, nodded once to Mrs. Harmon, silently letting her know he would be back at the appointed time and followed Morgan out the door.

* * *

From her reclined position on the lounge, Alex watched Morgan tear out of the barn and down the road at neck breaking speed. Immediately, the first thing that came to mind was trouble. Then she wondered if one of the horses had gotten hurt or perhaps one of the foals. She was so tempted to take a walk over to the barn for a quick look, but fear over Doc anger kept her from getting involved. "Damn him." She mumbled.

"Mama?" Little John called, interrupting Alex from her dark thoughts, "Look and see how far I can throw the ball." He waited until she raised her head before tossing the red ball with all his might.

It went sailing several yards away, bounced a few times and then rolled. Immediately, Major was bolting after it and before the toy rolled much further, the dog captured the ball with his mouth and began his trot back holding his prize high in the air.

"Wow!" Alex praised. "That was really good! You've been practicing haven't you, Johnny?"

"Yep." He declared with a proud jerk of his chin that reminded Alex of her husband. _Like father, like son._

"Don't say yep. Say yes." Alex corrected as she watched the Labrador drop the ball at John Jr.'s feet, before sitting back on his heels, waiting anxiously for the next pitch. _If dogs could smile,_ she thought, _then this dog would be grinning from ear-to-ear._

"Yes, Mama."

There was a high-pitched whine and much tail wagging before Little John passed the ball to Alexander to let him have a turn. The two-year-old year old made a face as he held the dogged-slimmed ball, but gave his best toss anyway.

The throw was less than perfect, and within seconds Major had retrieved the toy and was back sitting at Johnny's feet again.

Lex didn't bother to witness the strength of his throwing arm. As soon as the ball left his hand he was walking over to his mother with his wet palm held out and the very picture of distress written all over his face. "Yucky, Mama." He complained.

Suppressing a smile, she considered how alike father and youngest son were. _They both hate to be dirty, _she realized. _How on earth does my husband manage to stick his fingers in people's mouths all day?_ "Come here, baby." Alex lifted the edge of her apron and began to wipe off his little fingers.

"Mah-er dirty."

"Yes. Major has a very wet mouth, doesn't he?" She agreed while kissing his soft cheek.

The motion also warranted a wipe, which Lex took care of with the back of his sleeve. "Mama you wet too." He groused before walking back over to see what his brother was doing.

She watched the boys play for the next half hour when the first drop of rain had her looking upward to judge the current condition of the gray skies. Several more drops fell, which quickly had her struggling to her feet. "John. Lex. We need to go in." She called. "It's starting to rain."

It didn't take long for Lexalor to come running to seek shelter under the porch roof, but Little John had to toss the ball one more time. Alex watched the dog race after the toy while rapping her hand over the boy's small shoulders. "Quick, get on the porch before you get really wet." The rain was soft but steady as it fell, giving every indication that it would be a typical spring shower.

She looked out over the fields wondering if any of the foals were left standing outside, but even as she watched she saw several of the ranch hand ushering the horses into the barn. Good, she nodded and had almost turned to start for the porch herself when she saw another man standing under a line of trees not sixty yards from her backdoor.

For just a moment what she was looking at didn't register. The conversation she had with Doc days ago was ancient history along with all her fears about a mystery man who may or may not resemble her dead spouse. Tall frame, dark hair, white shirt, all the trademarks of her earlier hysterics were forgotten, it was just another ranch hand out of the thirty or so men they employed. Her eyes passed over him as she looked for Major and his red ball. A dark movement to her right caused her to look away, and as the Labrador came barreling up to her side she turned away from the field and toward the house.

By the time she had reached the first step onto her porch both of her boys were already inside the kitchen. She looked once more for the dog's location worried that he might trip her as she ascended the stairs. She sighed with fatigue when she saw Major's ball rolling away from the house, stopping just a few feet from her birdbath. The dog for some odd reason was standing still as a statue looking out over the backyard.

"If you take off after some squirrel, I'll never forgive you." She told him. "Go get your ball, Major."

Still the dog ignored her. "Major! Fetch your ball." She waited, but the dumb mutt wouldn't move.

Knowing that if she didn't bring the ball into the house Johnny would be worried it would get lost, and since the toy was the dog's favorite, Alex felt a responsibility to make sure the dog and toy were both accounted for. "Fine," she muttered as she walked out into the yard. "I'll go get it myself. Maybe then you'll follow me inside."

Leaning down to pick something up was always a project and not something she did easily or quickly. With a grunt of effort she had just placed her fingers on the slimy and now muddy ball when Major let out a low growl from behind her.

Thinking the dog was upset she had touched his property she was only slightly concerned about her safety. "Here." She announced as she turned around to show the animal she would return his precious toy. She was just about to toss it to him when the Labrador's growl escaladed. His head lowered to the level of his shoulders, hackles up, ears flat against his head, his upper lip curled back revealing a full set of white canine teeth. He crouched and took a small step forward ready to attack at a moment's notice.

The hair on the back of Alex's neck stood sharply on end, not because the dog was growling at her, but because his attention was fixed on something or someone standing behind her. With her heart hovering in her throat she whipped around gasping with fright when she saw why the dog was so freaked.

There he was, standing under the leaves of the large maple tree not fifty feet from her back door. Shock held her captivated; the sharp blue color of his eyes staring back at her had her trembling with fear. _Not real! This isn't real._ Alex squeezed her eyes shut, breathed deeply and looked again.

He was still there, smiling this time, dressed in his favorite blue jeans and white shirt, dark hair falling softly across his forehead. Casually, he struck a pose, reaching up with one hand to grasp the lower limb of the tree. The movement pulled back the sleeve on his shirt, clearly revealing the dark Guardian tattoo underneath.

"Malachi." She gasped with fright, causing Major to rumble louder, fangs clacking together as his warning to stay away became more ferocious. The Labrador advanced to stand by her side, protecting her in the only way he could.

Her nightmare smiled in response totally undisturbed by the dog, letting Alex see the long pointed fangs that were normally hidden in his mouth.

_Run,_ her subconscious screamed, but deep down inside she knew she could never run fast enough. True, Malachi was a good fifty feet away, sheltered by the leaves on the tree and the cloudy sky from a rainy afternoon, but within a breath of a second he could cross the distance. The dog was her only hope, and yet her heart ached knowing if she let Major attack he was sure to lose the battle. The beautiful black body that vibrated at her side with fierce determination would be easily broken in two by the vampire's powerful hands.

Slowly she leaned down while keeping her eyes focused on the demon and hooked her finger around the dog's collar. "Major." She whispered while giving him a small tug, "Come." She stepped back bringing the dog with her, thankful that he seemed willing to retreat.

Alex began to count her steps. _One… Two…_ How far was it to the back porch? How much further to the back door?

Malachi's calm expression faded when he realized she was trying to get away. His hand came away from the tree, and a glimmer of excitement slowly spread across his face, thrilled by the idea of a good chase.

_Three… Four…_ Backward she and the dog traveled, never letting her guard down, keeping her foe within sight at all times. _Five… Six…_

Her bladder let go, splashing urine down her legs and across her shoes, when she heard the distinct click and slow high-pitch whine of the kitchen's screen door opening, and a small-confused voice broke the silence as well as any control she held. "Mama?" John Jr. called. "What are you doing? You're getting all wet."

The strength in her crumbled, causing her to stumble backward and at the same time she let the dog's collar slip off her finger. The motion set her off, turning, running as fast as she could back to the safety of her kitchen. Almost at the same time the air behind her back moved, lifting the ends of skirt, and she knew without turning around that he was fast on her heels, inches from touching the back of her neck.

Major let out an angry roar and launched himself at Malachi, knocking him backward and away from Alex. With a vicious snap he latched onto the demon's face and bit down.

Alex reached the porch in time to surround Little John's body and cover his eyes before the dog let out one sharp scream of pain. The silence that followed was deafening. She didn't dare look back to see if the Labrador still lived, but continued running on pure fear. She scooped the boy into her arms and carried him through the doorway, slamming the backdoor shut and throwing the lock into place.

But would it be enough? Vampires were incredibly strong. Doors, windows, even the roof of her house could be torn open. No building was safe against the destruction they could cause.

Backing away from the doors, dragging the boy with her, she fell against the kitchen table, heart pounding in her throat. And then she remembered – the undead could not enter her house unless they were invited. The thought gave her enough security to think straight, her options ticking through her brain at lighting speed. _What to do? What to do?_ The answer was simple; she would build her defenses one at a time.

First she needed to take care of her frightened children. Then she would find a way to deal with the vampire.

* * *

In the hazy shadows of the local saloon, Doc frowned at his friend. "What do you mean they weren't fly bites, Morgan?"

"Haven't you been listening to a word I said? First your wife is frightened by what she thinks is her dead husband inside our barn, and now we've got a dead horse with bite wounds too fucking similar to the vampire wounds we saw in Tombstone. Now you can call me paranoid and laugh all you want Doc, but I still want you to cancel your appointments and come home with me."

"And do what?" He snapped, "Check _all_ the horses for fly bites?"

Morgan clenched his fist tightly but refrained from pounding on the saloon table. "We've got to search the fucking property. The sun will be down in about six hours."

Doc sat back in his chair and silently began to count to ten. His anger was irrational, and totally out of control. It was pure denial that was fueling is rage, and for some reason he couldn't get past that hump in the road_. No! No! No! This can't be happening again. _The thought ran circles around in his head. Hadn't they left all this behind them? Life had been so good up until now, why did evil come to seek them out once again? And following those thoughts was one even more absurd. _This is all Alex's fault. All her fucking fault._

Morgan was finding it harder and harder to be patient. It was incomprehensible that Doc Holliday should be so hesitant about defending his family, but here it was. At one time the dentist was the first to saddle his horse and fight for the cause, but now…now he sat in stunned silence. Angry. Defensive. Disbelieving. "Please, Doc. If I'm wrong I'll apologize and buy you a good bottle of scotch, but if I'm right…"

Doc held up his hand to halt any further pleading. "And you say you already wired Fabrizio?"

"Yes, but you know as well as I do that it's a three day train ride from Tombstone to Kentucky. Now unless you want your pregnant wife dusting off her sword to battle some vampire, ghost, or whatever you want to call it, you had better get your ass home and help me search that farm."

* * *

Sister Melanie Holliday stepped off the Faywood train smoothing her rumpled habit. She smiled with secret delight as she looked about the empty train platform, knowing her one-day early arrival was going to really surprise her cousin. It wasn't often that she got the upper hand on John, but she was sure today would be one of those times.

After the station porter retrieved her luggage from the train, she signaled for a cabby, paid her fare and instructed the man to take her to Dr. John Holliday's house.

* * *

Alex stared at the large vase of sunny daffodils that sat on the marble table in her front hall. _Didn't I pick those yesterday?_

Yesterday she had admired the color and shape of the blooms, pleased by the beauty she saw in the perky flowers. Only yesterday all her worries and troubles consisted of her inability to sleep more than three hours at a time, her constantly aching back and swollen feet, and the fact that her dining chair and table no longer accommodated her large stomach, forcing her to sit back from the table in order to eat with her family at meal times. Just yesterday her husband had teased her about peeing in the meadow, had made love to her just as the sun was rising and told her how beautiful she was.

Yesterday seemed like a lifetime ago.

Today the vivacious yellow blooms still looked happy, peaceful and so out of character for the moment. Her day was turning out to be anything but peaceful and happy. There had been a time in her life when she was clueless about the existence of vampires. Today, however, one member of the undead was circling around her house, knocking on walls and windows; frightening her children, servants and even herself.

Suddenly the song "Yesterday" by The Beatles sounded inside her head.

_Yesterday,  
All my troubles seemed so far away,  
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,  
Oh, I believe in yesterday._

She groaned inward, knowing the tune would repeat over and over again through her mind until it wore itself out, or drove her crazy, whichever came first. _Malachi could kill you first._ That was definitely a possibility, in which case the song would cease to irritate her. _Oh, happy thought._

Again she looked at the vase of yellow nature, and struggled to overcome the urge to send it dashing to the floor. _My, my, how current events can alter your views,_ she realized. In the end she decided to leave the flowers in peace. The sound of breaking glass would only upset her love ones who were safely locked away behind a heavy wooden door.

Unable to form a better plan, Alex had simply tucked her children along with the other members of her household inside her front parlor. The room was at the front of the house and closest to the road. There was several windows which would make escape easy should the need arise. And if the sun should show its face today, that room would be baked in bright light. Hopefully, their confinement would not be long. If she were successful in summing help, the vampire would be forced to flee.

With fresh tears drying on her face she turned away and started up the front staircase, dragging Paul McCartney with her. The next phase of her plan was now underway.

The second item on her list was acquiring a weapon, which caused her to chuckle with nervousness over her concern at what Doc would say when he found she had once again broken her promise. _Wonder how he'll spank me with my stomach this big?_ The thought brought a mixture of amusement and sexual anticipation, but it didn't stop her from going through with her plan.

Pulling the footstool into the closet, she stepped up and grabbed the canvas bag that housed her few remaining Guardian items. Riffling passed her sword – a useless item in her condition – she reached for a bottle of holy water, a strand of ivory rosary and a wooden stake; items she had secretly gathered and hid inside the bag with the sword. The Christian relics and several freshly sharpened stakes she had obtained not long after her last fight with her husband. Her fear of exposure and Doc's retribution was strong within her, but her fear of the unknown was stronger. Rule number one in the Guardian Handbook: A Guardian is never without a weapon. So, inspite of his wishes, she had created multiple stakes from a fresh piece of cedar, bottled the holy water after attending Mass one Sunday, and slipped the smuggled goods inside the bag along with an extra cross. Considering today's circumstance, she was very thankful she had listened to her training rather than her overprotective spouse. Pocketing the items inside her apron, she then uncovered the handgun Doc hid on his side of the closet, checked to make sure it was load and placed that in her other pocket.

With the weight of the weapons in her apron she felt more in control, more confident – no doubt an imaginary condition, and most likely stemming from her fear – but at least she wouldn't be defenseless if she were attacked again. She was halfway to the bedroom door when a sharp rapping sound had her heart racing with fright. _Dear God, he's on the balcony._

"GO AWAY!" She screamed.

A soft lusty laugh drifted in from the porch. "Alexis, let me in."

The sound of his voice sent a wave of longing through her heart. It was so sharp, so painful, it was as if Malachi had died only yesterday. In reality, more than six years had passed, and yet she still had moments of profound grief whenever she stirred old memories. Slowly, and as quietly as she could, she eased her way to window to part the curtain. Peaking out, she could only see the puddles of water and wet patio furniture. In a rushed motion, she ripped open the drapes and found him standing up against the glass window. She raised her gun and fired a volley of bullets at his head, shattering several windowpanes. At the very last second he moved, faster than her eye could follow, leaving a trail of soft laughter in his wake.

The report of gunfire had the household servants crying her name from the hallway below. "I'm all right!" She called over her shoulder while keeping her eyes open for any further activity on the balcony.

The vampire had vanished, but she had no doubt he would turn up again. It was then she realized that he was stalling for time, keeping her defensive like a rat scurrying around inside her home. _Fuck him,_ she thought. _It was time to turn the tables._

Alex went directly to the kitchen, passing by the open parlor door as she went down the hall. "Get back inside." She told Sun. "I'll be there directly." When the Oriental woman tried to argue Alex waved her firmly away.

Now that she was alone, the solitude and stillness of the kitchen gave her a moment to pause and think. Her nightmare had returned and was at the moment hiding in the vegetation that surrounded her house. Just thinking about it had her fighting tears of frustration and helplessness.

_But, I killed him, five years ago in Tombstone._

The thought grounded her, but only a little.

How was it possible? How did he survive? What if he wasn't a vampire? What if he was the ghost of a vampire, or God forbid something worse? What then? How could she protect her children and her household when she was eight months pregnant?

A multitude of questions and no answers in sight. Hopeless tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision. Leaning against the counter for support she sobbed for a moment while struggling to get a grip on her feelings. _Don't turn into an emotional mess,_ she told herself. _Think! Work the problem out logically._ "Yes, damn it, this is no time to turn into a blubbering housewife." She said out loud. Grabbing a nearby dishtowel she hastily dried her tears before tearing the end of the cloth into strips. She would think and work at the same time.

Based on what she just saw, and assuming she wasn't totally out of her mind, she could then pose three queries. How did he return? Why did he return? And, what exactly did he return as? They were three very good questions, and the answers may or may not determine the chance of her survival and all those she held dear. The last of problem was the most important one and because of that she began to tackle it first.

If Malachi was a vampire still, he could be killed. Not easily, of course, because of his training and experience as a Guardian, and mostly because of his superior strength and speed as a vampire. But the feat could be accomplished if they could pool their resources and gang up on him.

But if he were a ghost, then what? Perform an exorcism? Yes, this too could be done. She did not have all the materials here at the house but the merchant in town did. And in her canvas bag upstairs she still held several personal items that had belonged to Malachi. One being his hairbrush, which several strands of hair would be required to perform the spell that would send his spirit back to where it belonged.

The last question was the most difficult to work out. If what she saw today was something else – something dark and evil – then she would need to call for help, and dear Father Martin and Fabrizio were hundreds of miles away. It would take her friends days to get here. "No!" She hissed with a shake of her head. "I won't think about that now. I'll think about it later. Just like dear old Katie Scarlet would if she were in my shoes." Sending out silent kudos to the movie, Gone With The Wind, she tore her last strip of cloth, setting it to one side.

Keeping her hands and feet in motion she continued with her present task. In the cabinet where she kept her cooking oils she found exactly what she wanted. "What a waste of good brandy." She mumbled and proceeded to uncork two bottles. Shoving a torn piece of towel in the top of each bottle she then grabbed several matchsticks, and carried her homemade bombs to the back door.

_You can scream fire to get help, or you can set a fire to get help,_ she thought. "When this is all over, I'm speaking to my husband about installing a telephone."

Peering out into the yard she noticed it had finally stopped raining. The sky looked a little brighter. Alex sent a silent pray to the heavens, hoping that the sun would soon make an appearance. She saw no sign of Malachi lurking about. Quickly, she eased open the back door and stepped out on to the porch, struck a match and set the end of one fuse on fire, wondering, not for the first time, if the recent rain would hinder her plan. Her hope lay with the brandy and the ability of the alcohol to burn fast and hot. "One Molotov cocktail coming right up." She threw the bottle with all her might, aiming for the small root cellar where she stored her vegetables and jarred goods.

The first bottle landed five feet short of her target and exploded into a fiery crash setting a large patch of lawn instantly ablaze. "Oh, fuck." She hissed under her breath. Lighting the second fuse she aimed again, and felt a thrill when the bottle smashed against the roof setting the building directly on fire. Dark gray smoke billowed into the air sending out her distress call loud and clear. "Hurry, John. Please hurry."

"Oh, hurry, John." A squeaky voice mocked from behind her shoulder. Before she could cry out, a cold hand clamped firmly around her throat and dragged her away from the safety of the kitchen door.

* * *

Much to Morgan chagrin, Doc insisted on returning to his office to have Mrs. Harmon cancel all his afternoon appointments. His instructions seemed to take forever, mostly involving detailed directions about how to rearranging his schedule.

Morgan couldn't tell if Doc was really that concerned over his patients, or if he was purposely stalling because he had very little faith in Morgan's observations. Finally, after anxiously waiting for five minutes and counting to ten two times in a row, the youngest Earp lost all control.

"Doc, I swear to God, if you don't get a move on, I'm going to bodily carry your ass out the door!"

His angry outburst actually produced results rather than an argument and within seconds the two men where riding back to the ranch. Doc in his usual buggy with Morgan cantering along side. They were within a mile of the ranch when they spotted a black column of smoking rising into the air.

Pulling the horse to a stop, Morgan stood high in the stirrups as he strained to get a better view. "It's hard to see against the gray clouds, but it looks like it's coming from your house, Doc."

"Morgan…." The ex-gambler began but the request was unnecessary. The thoroughbred his friend was riding was kicked into a gallop, leaving the dentist cursing roughly under his breath as his horse and buggy struggled to keep up.

* * *

Alex was pulled backward across the porch; her back slammed roughly against one of the corner pillars that held the roof in place. Trapped by the surrounding railing, she stared back at her attacker, not with fright but with amazement. "I don't fucking believe it!" Where the first words that came to mind.

"Well, you better believe it, sweetheart. It took me a long, long time to get here, and let me tell you, the look on your face is payment for all those months lying in the dark waiting to heal, and the lonely years I spent alone just trying to survive."

"So, what do you want, Billy Breakenridge, a vampire pity party?" She growled back while slowly shifting her weight, ready to break into a run as soon as the time was right.

He grinned, and slowly shook his head. "No, Alex. I've got much better plan for you, and for your little family. One that is so much more poetic. One that Malachi would have approved of, if my sire were still alive."

With lightening speed, he snatched her by the wrist, preventing any means of escape. "Don't even think about it. Did you really think you could outrun a vampire? Pity your dog and your human guard had to pay the price for your ignorance." He jerked his head to the right to point out the two bodies lying almost side-by-side in her back yard. "The guard was a nice bonus after munching on horse blood for a week. Remind me later to thank Morgan for lunch."

Alex tried to keep a level head, making no effort to acknowledge his mocking comments. There was nothing she could do for the ranch hand that lay in a broken heap; his neck torn open and every last drop of blood sucked dry. The deathly still body of her beloved dog was another matter that had her heart twisting painfully within her chest. With effort she focused on her opponent. Partially hidden underneath the long strands of hair from the brown wig he wore, his left cheek and jaw were ripped open to the bone – evidence of Major's attack. As her eyes traveled lower, she was amazement at the detailed disguise he wore. When she saw him from a distance she could understand why she had been fooled. Every detail, every nuance from the body gestures and movements, to the dark wig, white shirt, and hand-drawn tattoo were all trademarks that resembled Malachi. From deep within her rose a dark anger at how this demon had taken her beloved husband's appearance and twisted it to frighten and trap her. _Pregnant or no,_ _if I can, I will kill you,_ she silently swore.

"What's with the Malachi disguise, William? Aren't you taking your hero worship just a little too far?" Deliberately keeping her tone sharp and mocking, Alex was determined to keep him preoccupied while she slowly slid her hand inside the pocket of her apron. The vial of Holy Water was her only hope for escape, and if she were able to get some of the precious fluid into his mouth it might even kill him.

He issued a lighthearted laugh, making it very obvious that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "That's all part of the plan. Although, I did hope to torment you a little longer, but I was never one to prolong the moment." He leaned in, pushing her back further into a tight corner. With his free hand he tenderly caressed her protruding stomach. "I confess, Alexis, I'm too eager to begin step two of my plan. Don't you want to know what I'm going to do to you?"

In a flash, his human features faded to reveal the demon inside. Slowly, he leaned in and whispered, "Do you remember what happened to Malachi's sister?"

Alex gasped, her heart slamming against her chest in a rapid pace. _Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God._ The phrase looped with lighting speed through her mind as she recalled the horrible story behind Malachi's most painful moment.

Beth McCulloch had been a young, vibrant woman. Four years older than her brother, Malachi, her beauty mirrored his dark looks, pale-smooth skin and deep-blue eyes. Men flocked to her like bees chasing honey. And one day, during a warm Autumn night, one of her young men managed to capture her charms and eight months later Beth found herself pregnant and alone.

Being a devote Catholic, abortion was out of the question. Beth decided to keep her baby. She would live with her parents after the birth, her mother was eager to help with the childcare while Beth worked during the day. For a while it looked like Beth's life would turn out all right. And then one evening she disappeared. The authorities had been notified, and all of Beth's closest friends questioned. At the end of the police investigation, they had come to the weak conclusion that Beth had run off with a former lover, or perhaps with a new one. _Not to worry,_ they had told Malachi, _s__he'll turn up._

Unfortunately, the police were right. One week later Beth did turn up, but as a newly born vampire with her vampire baby cuddled in her arms. It was only by the grace of God that the Guardians had been secretly monitoring the situation. They quickly disposed of Beth and child, but not before Malachi had witnessed the horrific event.

Breakenridge laughed again, showing off his sharp pointed teeth, as he watched cold fear seep into Alex's green eyes. "I can see that you do. Good. Less explanation is always better, and honestly, all this excitement has stimulated my appetite."

Her logic told her to strike out, to hurt him in any way she could, any means to escape, but terror held her spellbound. Sensing her fear, her unborn child turned and jerked inside her womb. Like a frightened rabbit she could only stand there and watch as his hand moved from her waist to her hair and locked his fingers tightly around her pinned up curls, yanking her head sharply to the side. Slowly, his mouth moved toward her neck when from beyond his shoulder Alex saw a dark figure approaching Breakenridge from behind.

When she realized who her rescuer was, she was almost sick from fright, and yet, the spell that held her captive broke. In a smooth motion she brought up her knee with as much force as she could, striking the vampire in the groin.

Billy let out a silent groan, sending a gush of hot air across her face. He teetered backward; turning with his hand cupping is wounded cock he came face to face with Sister Melanie Holliday.

"Ulciscor everto!" _(Back demon!)_ She cried out in Latin, her crucifix held high like a weapon in her hand, coming within inches of his face. "Reverto ut incendia of abyssus ex unde vos venit!" _(Return to the fires of hell from whence you came!)_ Her voice was forceful and commanding, and so sure in her belief that the Holy Spirit within her pushed the vampire backward across the porch.

Alex didn't falter another moment. With one fluid motion, she pulled out the vial of Holy Water, popped out the cork with her thumb and splashed Billy Breakenridge in the face.

The vampire let out a roar of pain, his hands flung across his face in a defensive position. He stumbled backward, hitting the railing with the back of his legs and fell over onto the ground.

Mattie didn't wait to see where the demon ran to or if he still lived. She grabbed her cousin's wife by the wrist and hulled her toward the kitchen door and safely inside.

* * *

Morgan sprinted up the front drive and around to the side of Doc's house. The billows of smoke and fire had alerted the ranch hands who were rapidly running across the lawn. Quickly the men formed a line and began to fling buckets of water on the root cellar.

He steered the horse past the burning building, looking left and right for any sign of Alex, the children or the household of servants the Holliday family employed. His stress level escaladed when all he saw were the broken bodies of the black Labrador and a ranch hand that by his orders was sent to guard the house. _What the fuck happened here?_ He thought, even though deep down inside he knew the answer. Adding to the mystery was a shattered bottle on the ground near the root house; the lawn surrounding it burnt black. The fire had been deliberately set, but by who, Doc's wife or the vampire that was running loose?

Confused by the strange events he continued to search for Alex through the thick smoke that covered the lawn. "Have you see Mrs. Holliday?" He shouted to Dick Thomas who was running over to help.

"No!" The Foreman called back, eyes wide with concern. "You mean they're not with you?"

_Jesus,_ Morgan thought, _they're all still inside the house._ Jumping off the horse he ran up the porch steps and through the kitchen door.

Hovering arm-in-arm by the kitchen sink, both Mattie and Alex jumped, startled by Morgan's abrupt arrival. Alex took one look at her friend, let out a cry of gratitude and burst into tears.

Running the horse at full speed, Doc rounded the corner of the house too sharply causing the small buggy to tip slightly and ride on two wheels before bouncing upright. The forward momentum of the carriage made stopping so difficult that he almost ran over the two bodies lying in the grass. One look at his beloved dog and his heart jerked painfully in his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes followed by a wave of fear – fear for his wife and children. Rapidly, he looked about for three blonde heads in the sea of smoke but couldn't find them.

He exited the carriage, not bothering to tie the horse but letting the gelding wander freely to stand beside Morgan's stallion. It took effort to hold back the strong wave of pain circulating in his chest as he paused by the crippled black body, knelling in the dirt to gently stroke the silky head. "Major." The name was a whisper, too painful to speak out loud.

The dead ranch hand was beyond all help. His throat had been torn open, hazel eyes staring wide with fright. Doc doubted very much if the man had any idea who or what attacked him. Curiously, several feet next to the body lay a dark brown object. Turning away from the death scene Doc walked over to retrieve the mystery. Upon closer inspection his heart thumped wildly with fear, a million small puzzle pieces suddenly came crashing together, causing him to run straight for the backdoor, the brown wig held tightly in his hand. All at once two plus two equaled four again.

No words could ever replace the surge of relief he felt when Alex melted in his arms, sobbing loudly while burying her wet face in the crook of his neck. "Are you hurt? Where are the children?" He asked while looking rapidly about the kitchen for any sign of trouble. His eyes settled momentarily on Mattie, a flash of confusion appearing before his attention turned back to his wife.

Alex shook her head, reluctant to release her hold from Doc's coat. The warmth and comfort she felt within the safety of his arms was slowly calming the tremor running through her body. "I'm fine, thanks to Mattie. The children are safe in my parlor." Without waiting she turned and hurried down the hall toward the front of the house, with Doc keeping a soothing hand against the small of her back.

When she tried the door she found it locked. "Sally. Sun. Open the door." She called in what she hoped was a calm voice. Normalcy met her eyes when Sun opened the door. Mr. and Mrs. Li were seated in front of the fireplace enjoying the fire they had built in the hearth, and on the sofa Sally was reading to John Jr. and Alexander was fast asleep with his head on her knee. Apparently all occupants were unaware of the fire burning in the back yard.

"Ah…" Sun smiled, bowing in greeting at Doc. "I see your plan to call Dr. John worked."

"John Henry," Mattie called in a stern voice as she eased into the room, "I don't mean to sound demanding, but…would you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?"

* * *

_One for you and one for me,_ Alex thought as she watched the ranch hands carry their dead crewmember back to the ranch house. Without asking for an explanation, the hired hands had come to the conclusion that a large wild animal was loose on the property. Alex didn't try to change their minds. She would deal with the vampire in the same way she always did, covertly and as quickly as possible so that no other innocents would be hurt or killed.

Dick Thomas would have the unpleasant task of notifying the dead man's family. In her head, Alex was already compiling a list of things she would need to do to fulfill her obligations to any surviving relatives. Did he have children? A wife? Elderly parents? She didn't know. So many unanswered questions, and at the end of all things, would money be enough to comfort the survivors?

Sadly, she turned away from the morbid scene and back to her own fatal family member. With tears in her eyes, she watched Doc place the limp body of the Labrador gently on the kitchen counter. He made no effort to hide his sorrow; tears streamed down his face, his chest hitching with unvoiced sobs.

"He saved me by attacking Breakenridge." She told him while running a gentle hand over the dog's body. "I would be dead now, if not for his bravery." _Dead or worse than dead._ At first glance she could plainly see the animal had a broken jaw, probably from the vampire prying Major loose from his face. The odd angle of his shoulder hinted at broken bones or dislocated shoulder. Maybe even a broken back. She looked closer, leaning in to check for other wounds.

"I should bury him before the children find out." Doc mumbled from across the room. He had wandered over to the window, his back turned toward the room in an effort to maintain some composure. She heard him strike a match, smelled the aromatic fragrance of his tobacco.

For some odd reason Alex felt fixated by the dog's wounds. She continued to examine him, lifting one large black paw she rested the foot in the palm of her hand. _Saved me._ The words ripped into her chest, striking a painful hole that felt like the size of a mountain inside her heart. _Showed no fear. He attacked the vampire to save me._

From behind her shoulder she felt Mattie hovering. Gently the nun laid the palm of her hand against Alex's elbow. "Come, sit down, Alexis. There's nothing you can do for him now."

Alex nodded, hearing the finality to her words. _Dead is dead, and there was nothing to change that fact,_ she thought, when suddenly under her hand she felt the dog drag in a shallow breath. "He's alive!" She screamed, leaning in closer she brought her head level with the animal's face and gently lifted one eyelid. The pupil contracted from the light inside the kitchen, and she screamed again. "Oh my God! John, he's alive!"

For some unknown reason that statement brought her husband no joy. Alex heard him groan. When she turned, the expression on his face told her everything. He looked straight at her, not at the dog, and nodded. "I'll be a minute. I'm not carrying a gun." He turned away and started down the hallway toward his study where the gun cabinet was kept.

"No!" She yelled at him, making him stop and turn back around.

"Alex he's too injured. There's nothing we can do for him but put him out of his misery."

She shook her head, overwhelmed by the coldness in his statement. "John, no."

Somehow her hidden thoughts were revealed to him. He stepped closer, fear at what she intended to do momentarily replacing his sorrow. "No, you can't. You shouldn't."

She refused to step away from the dog. Slowly her hand slid down from the animal's head to the middle of his chest. She began to search, looking for the most serious wound to heal first.

"Alexis!" He yelled, stepping in close now, ready to grab her and move her away. "Don't." He hissed with explosive force with his hand closing tightly over hers, coming between her and the dog. "You have no idea what it will do to the baby."

The unknown made her pause, made her share his fear. Doc turned her around, pulling her back from the counter. "Please." He begged in a hushed whisper. "Don't risk it."

"Don't risk what?" Mattie asked, confused by the coded language between John and Alexis. Thinking that Alex wanted to spare her husband the agony of shooting his beloved pet, the nun tried to offer a solution. "Let me fetch Morgan. He's probably out in the yard. It might be easier for you both."

Doc turned and nodded at his cousin telling her silently to do as she suggested. Mattie quickly slipped out the door when he called after her, "Stay near the house where the men can see you."

Once the nun was out of sight Alex spoke plainly. "Please, let me try." She begged. "I'll work slow and be careful."

"No! Damn it. If anything should happen to you or the baby, what then?"

Resigned to his decision she nodded, turning back to give her beloved pet one final kiss goodbye. Just as she leaned in to place a gentle hand on Major's shoulder, she felt something move through her. In a wave it came, strong in its motion, surging forward beyond her control, it shot out of her and enveloped the Labrador. She felt searing warmth, like rays of sunlight baking her skin on a hot summer day, and a instant later saw a soft glow surround the animal. She heard Doc gasp, felt him latch onto her shoulders and yank her backward, but it was too late.

In a flash of a second, the dog took a full breath and rolled to life on the counter. With ease he got to his feet, and shook his black body, wiggling from head to tail, as if he had just risen from a long afternoon nap. Major looked rapidly around the room, spotted his master and let out a yelp of welcome before jumping down to the floor.

"Sweet Jesus." Alex gasped and would have fallen if Doc hadn't been holding onto her.

"Alex!" He growled, ready to loose his anger at her.

"Uh…" She stuttered while pointing at the dog. "I didn't do that." Wide-eyed she watched Major wander over to his water bowl and take a deep drink.

"Wh-What?" Doc fumbled as he pulled her around face-to-face. "What do you mean you didn't do that? If not you then…" His eyes traveled from her face to her extended stomach.

She nodded. "I swear, John. I didn't do a damn thing. It was the baby."

He mouthed an unspoken 'No', stepping back from her to get a better look while placing a gentle hand across her stomach. "Alex, how the hell?"

Major interrupted by scratching at Doc's pant leg, begging for attention. Hesitantly, he knelt down to run a hand over the animals face and body. "He's whole. There's not a cut or broken bone."

"I'm a good healer, but I'm not that good, nor that fast." Alex replied while reaching down to pet the animal too. "It takes me several minutes to heal someone completely, you know that Doc. Whatever that was, it was instantaneous." She turned and reached for the counter placing her palm down on the tiled top where the dog had been laying, before drawing her hand back with a gasp. "It's warm. Almost hot to the touch."

Doc stood and touched the counter too. "You're right, it is warm." Slowly he shook his head. "How can this be?"

"Fuck if I know." She grinned in reply, feeling the beginnings of a giddy excitement. "How the hell are you going to explain it to everyone else?"

He laughed outright while knelling down to pet his dog again, hugging the animal in close and kissing his wet nose. "How am _I_ going to explain? What makes you think I'm the one to straighten this out?"

"He's your dog, John Holliday. Make something up. You used to have a fabulous mind for creating bullshit. I'm the one who can't lie to save herself, remember?"

"There's no getting around this, Alexis. We're going to have to tell Mattie."

"Tell me what?" The nun asked as she stepped through the back door with Morgan in tow.

Major turned, barked at what he saw as an intruder and Mattie Holliday let out a sharp, high-pitched scream.

* * *

The sharp click from Doc's loaded shotgun broke the sterile silence that permeated the Holliday kitchen, sending a chill racing up Alex's spine. She was weary from begging, threatening, and screaming with anger. He refused to listen to a word she said. With tears standing in her eyes she watched her husband place several boxes of ammunition in the pockets of his long coat. Fastened around his chest was the familiar sight of his shoulder holster. Settled comfortably, perhaps too comfortably, on either side of his midsection were his favorite ivory-handled colts. Guns he had worn only a handful of time since leaving Tombstone, but now looked very much at home to her, as if he had never removed them.

"Stay inside." He ordered without looking away from checking the barrels of each pistol. "Take the children and go upstairs to our room." Raising his eyes, he leveled her with the determination she saw displayed in their blue depths. "I mean it, Alex. You disobey me and there will be hell to pay. Do I make myself clear?"

She nodded while stifling another sob behind her hanky. Mattie's warm hands placed soothing around her shoulders did very little to calm Alex's fears. Once again she was reminded of the differences between this century and her own. How commonplace it was for a man to order a woman about in eighteen eighty-seven. The nun standing behind her didn't flinch at all. She was used to it. Hell, she even expected it. Alex, on the other hand, wasn't taking John's directives very well at all.

Standing quietly to one side, Morgan waited patiently for Doc to finish preparing. The youngest Earp had already tucked a lawman's arsenal into several pockets of his coat. Clutched tightly in his hand was a loaded twelve-gage shotgun, one he had procured from his days riding shotgun with Wells Fargo. The weapon had served him well during those times. Obviously, by bringing the weapon out of retirement, he was hoping the charm was still in effect.

Each man had armed themselves with wooden stakes retrieved from Alex's weapon bag. Short handled scythes from their tool shed were now tucked tightly inside their belts. Just looking at the weapons made her stomach roll.

_There's no way they are prepared to do this alone with no expert to guide them,_ she contemplated while worrying her hanky. The thought had her jumping to voice her objections again and again and again.

"Please don't do this." She begged for the umpteenth time, stepping forward to reach for Doc's hands. "It will be dark soon. Wait until first light, until the sun is out.

Underneath her touch she felt him stiffen with anger and irritation. "We've been over this, Alexis." He growled. "I refuse to sit around and give that S.O.B. time to get away. I want him now. I want him for what he did to you and to Major."

At his feet the dog whined, confused by the sound of his name, and the anger radiating from his master. "You and Mattie take the dog upstairs with you." He continued in a gentler tone while slipping his hand under her jaw turning her face upward. "I'll be back soon." Leaning in, he kissed her, letting his lips linger over hers in a way that was usually reserved for the privacy of their bedroom.

Finally, he released her but his eyes held her captivated, and to Alex it looked very much like an unspoken goodbye. "Try to rest." He whispered, making her scoff loudly at his absurd statement.

"If you make me a widow, John Henry, I'll never, ever forgive you."

He gave her a cockeye grin, leaning in to hug her close one more time. "If my cousin wasn't here, I would tell you to be naked, powdered and waiting for me when I return. As it is, propriety will have to be maintained until we are alone." A short kiss was placed against her cheek.

She somehow managed to smile at him through her tears. "I will hold you to your word, sir, of that you can be sure." Reaching into her pocket she pulled free her rosary and slipped it over his head. "Wear this. It will keep you safe."

"Thank you, darlin." He glanced over her shoulder and nodded at Mattie, silently telling the nun to take his wife upstairs.

Alex felt two warm hands pulling her back, turning her away from her last look at her husband as he followed Morgan out the backdoor.

"I don't like this, Mattie. Not one damn bit."

"I know." The nun whispered as she guided her down the hallway. "Neither do I. Try to have faith, Alexis. John Henry is no city slicker. He knows how to handle himself; surely you are aware of this?"

Alex faltered; turning to look back toward the kitchen again she slowly shook her head. "They're both so inexperienced with this type of fighting. One battle under their belts and now they want to get cocky. No, I don't like this at all." Again, she felt the nun gently push her in the right direction, and again Alex paused, turning to grab her husband's cousin by the shoulders. "What if there's more than one vampire, Mattie?"

Uncertainly flashed across Sister Melanie's face before she looked away. "Call your dog, Alex. We must hurry upstairs as John requested. You may not be afraid of his temper, but I certainly am. While we wait, you can finish telling me your story."

Alex whistled for Major who was still lingering by the back door whining over Doc leaving him behind. She had to call him twice before he relented and followed her upstairs. "Very well, Mattie." She sighed. "I'm sure I'll have time to finish telling you everything."

After Major's Lazarus imitation, the nun had demanded a thorough explanation. Knowing that there was no other way to skirt around the truth, Doc and Alex quickly gave Mattie the answers she sought. Time, however, only allowed for the short version of the story.

Now that she was sheltered in her room with her children and servants to keep her company, Alex pulled the nun to one side and quietly told her the entire store. Everything from her secret profession, her late husband's demise, discovering her ability to heal, time traveling from the twenty-first century and her decision to stay behind and become Doc's wife.

Quietly, the nun listen, not once did she comment or question the aspects of Alex's story. Only her face betrayed her inner emotions. After talking nonstop for forty-five minutes, Alex finally leaned back and took a deep breath. "Well, Mattie, in case you're wandering, now's the perfect time to tell me I'm nuts. You can work on annulling my marriage after my husband returns from hunting the undead. I'm sure the church has an insanity clause hidden in one of their doctrines."

"No, Alexis, you're not crazy." Sister Melanie replied. "This may come as a shock to you, but I believe every word you said. Time travel, the ability to heal, and the aspects of evil are not unknown to the church. They are alive and well, in this century. Perhaps not commonly known, but certainly no secret. If one yearns for the truth, all one has to do is study the Lord's word. And, being a sister of the church entitles me to certain privileges. The knowledge of the Guardians existence is one of those liberties. I just wish some of your brethren were nearby."

"I am, however, very moved by your level of commitment to John. You gave up everything to be his wife. I wonder if he has any idea how difficult that must have been for you." She stared off thoughtfully. "Women are so different than men when it comes to drawing comfort from things that are familiar, such as friends and family." She chuckled to herself, "Most men, like John for instance, can travel miles from home, call a shack their new residence, and the local vagrant their best friend and be very, very content."

"But you… you left your entire world behind. I just can't imagine." Reaching out she laid her hand across Alex's. "How alone you must have felt at first. I hope that discomfort didn't last very long."

A warm smile slowly emerged on Alex's face, accompanied by tears of emotion. "At first I was disorientated, but I tried my best to hide my insecurities from him. I hope I succeeded. Although, it hasn't been an easy journey… for me or for John. He's been very patient with me, Mattie. There have been times when he must educate me as if I were a child. Social situations are so different in this era. It is of little matter for a woman in my time to open her own door, walk out in public unaccompanied by a man, or to pass into through a room and not expect every male to stand up as she approaches." She chuckled softly, thinking about one or two times when Doc was red-faced at something she said or did. "I know there were several incidences when I embarrassed him a great deal, but not once did he scold me. Yes, he's been very, very patient and for that I'm so grateful."

The nun stared in awe at the extraordinary woman sitting across from her. "You love him more than I ever did." She suddenly announced. "And as much as I hurt him by refusing his offer, and all the upset it caused in our family for many years thereafter, I'm content with the path I chose. Still, I could live to be hundred and never forget the tearful expression on his face when he walked away from me for the very last time." She gave Alex's hand another warm squeeze. "I'm glad he chose you, Alexis. You are his match in everyway possible, so much more so than I ever could have been."

"Thank you, Mattie. It means a lot to me to know you feel that way." She swallowed past the emotion stirring in her chest, letting her eyes stray to the window, noting the advancing evening sky. "It's almost full dark." Struggling to her feet she wandered over to the French doors, hoping to see Doc and Morgan walking toward the house, but all she could see were the twinkling lights from the ranch house and barn. She wrapped her hands around her arms in a vain effort to still the uneasy feeling running ramped inside. "I don't like this at all."

* * *

Doc Holliday circled the outside of the barn slowly, quietly, all senses alert for any unusual activity. Morgan and he had decided to split up, an action Alex would have been strenuously against. Perhaps it was male pride, or a goodly dose of stupidity, but Doc choose to ignore his wife's well meaning advice by letting his friend advance toward the ranch houses, while he choose to search the barn.

But that had been almost an hour ago, and daylight had still been good. Now as he stood with his back against the barn wall, he felt pressed in by the advancing darkness. Every shadow became a threat. Every strange noise took on the guise of the enemy. _I'm easy pickings,_ he thought, and almost laughed aloud at the absurd situation he had gotten himself into. _Alexis is right, we should have waited until tomorrow morning._ But there was still the lingering anger at the memory of his injured dog, and the frightened tears of his pregnant wife, and it was because of his rage that he refused to hide behind the safe walls of his home.

Once more he looked over the expanse of ground that stood between the barn and his house. There was no movement, no sound. For all he knew he could be completely alone or just inches from death. Steadying his nerves with a deep breath, Doc continued his patrol. He had only progressed five more yards when his rifle was snatched cleanly from his grip and a cold hand wrapped around his neck like a vise.

Lingering just inches from his face, Billy Breakenridge leaned in to study his prey more closely. "Hi ya, Doc. Remember me?" Laughter spewed from his demon mouth, spraying the stench of death across the dentist's face.

Doc mewed helplessly unable to breathe or call for help, he struggled to break free. "You should have listened to your wife, Holliday. She's got more sense then you've given her credit for." The vampire paused as he took in the shocked expression on the gambler's face. "Oh, yes… did I forget to mention I was hiding under your back porch the entire time." He tsked loudly while shaking his head, giving Doc a clear look at the combination of damage Major and Alex did to the demon's face. "Nice and dark under there, and so quiet. Quiet enough to hear every word spoken inside your house. Even after spending all those weeks with Malachi, with him babbling on and on about his lovely lady, I had no idea just how special she really is. And to think, her baby will be just as unique."

Doc issued a grunt of rage throwing back his shoulders until he was nearly free. Breakenridge launched his victim into the barn wall, slamming Doc's back against the solidly built structure, his body bouncing hard enough to send white sparks behind his eyes. From inside the building Doc heard several horses startle from the impact.

Refusing to let his prey go, Billy tightened his hold around his neck. "Not so fast Holliday." He hissed through clenched teeth, knocking the dentist against the wall two more times. "I know you want to fight, and by George, I am demon enough to give you a fair shot at saving your measly life, but I've traveled a long hard path to get here, I think it would only be polite if I got to strike first."

In the breath of a second, Doc was jerked forward, his head yanked painfully to one side as the vampire sank his teeth deep into his neck. At first, there was a fear driven urge to fight back, but it faded just as quickly as it came. A strange stillness crept over him. Floating in a sea of warmth, a pleasant calmness began to descend around him. He felt… elevated, on the edge of something sensual as if peaking toward orgasm and then he was torn away from the sensation and dashed against the hard ground.

Breakenridge stood over him triumphant, gleeful with a stream of blood dripping out of each corner of his mouth. "Okay, Holliday, it's your turn now. Come and get me."

The world was swimming in circles around him. Doc raised his head and tried desperately to focus on one object, but everything kept moving. Without thought his hand clamped over his neck where the vampire had bitten him, a steady flow of blood spread quickly over his fingers. _Bitten._ His stomach rolled at the thought, a physical reaction from the loss of blood. But what had him shaken to the depths of his soul was the rock hard erection throbbing between his legs. Duel emotions flooded his reason. He was mad enough to kill the being gloating over him, and yet a part of him wanted to sink back into the pleasant stillness he had just experienced until he found his release from the raw lust coursing through his body. He tried to roll away to get his bearings but was halted by a sharp kick against his left kidney.

Breakenridge stood over his victim, glorified in his easy victory. "Well? Are you going to fight or just lay there and bleed?" Again he tsked loudly. "I got to tell you Holliday, you're a big fucking disappointment." Once again he landed another solid kick to Doc's back, his smile growing wider when the result was a sharp cry of pain.

"What a fucking pussy you turned out to be." He squatted down next to the injured man, sinking his fingers deep into the dentist's hair, jerking his face upward. "Tell ya what I'm going to do, my friend. I'm going to bleed you some more and then we're going back to your place so I can nail your wife. With any luck she'll go into labor. What a hot little piece of ass she is, and I can't begin to tell you how anxious I am to meet the newest little Holliday. What a special, special baby this has got to be." He chuckled loudly and bent down to drink his fill.

John Henry didn't need to calculate the odds of survival. He was well aware if the vampire drank from him again he'd be done for. Desperately he reached across his chest for his colt only to have his fingers tangle up in the beads of Alex's rosary. A rope wrapped around his wrist couldn't have been more hindering. Feeling his panic rising to a new level he struggled to free his hand when he felt the ivory cross bounce into his palm. Quickly, he grasped his only weapon and pushed it into the demon's face.

Breakenridge screamed, smoke rising from the deep burn in his cheek. He flopped backwards rubbing his hand across his face in an effort to ease the scolding pain.

Free at last, Doc struggled to his knees, reaching for his pistol and pulling it free. He raised his arm, feeling the weakness in his body, his vision still too blurry to see clearly. Cocking back the hammer he took a guess and fired in the general direction the vampire had previously been. Two shots rang out before Billy picked up the nearby shotgun, flipped it around to grasp the barrel and slammed the butt end against the side of Doc's head.

There was a crack. His body knocked backward to land hard on his back, while white hot pain exploded in Doc's head, the world around him turning grayer and grayer by the second. _Going to pass out_. Was the only coherent thought he could hold onto. Vainly, he rolled over and started to crawl, his only hope now lay in Morgan. If the youngest Earp came quickly he might just make it out of this mess alive.

Again Billy leaned over to taunt and leer at his victim. "How's that feel, Holliday?" He laughed. "Hurts like a bitch doesn't it?"

"Fuck you." Doc managed to spit right before he was kicked again.

"Maybe I'll beat the shit out of you with the shotgun first and then I'll use you for a snack."

"And maybe you won't." Said a deep masculine voice rising out of the surrounding blackness.

Numbly, Doc silently cheered at Morgan's perfect timing. Squinting hard into the darkness he watched as Breakenridge turned and hissed loudly at the new intruder. Expecting to see his friend's angry face he frowned with confusion when a bright silver blade swung out of the blackness severing Billy Breakenridge's head from his demonic body. There was a small popping sound before the night breeze captured the ashes and lifted them into the air.

Doc didn't think it was possible for his level of fear to rise any further, but it spiked sharply in those few seconds right before a familiar face emerged to offer him a helping hand. "Oh," Doc gasped. "It's you."

"Si, Senior Holliday." Fabrizio smiled, garbed in head to toe black. "And not a moment too soon, I fear. Come, let's get you home so that your misses can tend to your wounds." Gently, he helped Doc to his feet wrapping his arm across his back for support.

Leaning heavily against the other man, Doc fought against the darkness that threatened to consume him. The soft running step of Morgan's quick approach was the last thing he heard before he lost the battle.

* * *

The cool compress against his forehead felt wonderful. The hushed conversations from inside the room were comforting. He was not alone and the thought made him feel less vulnerable, less afraid. He knew his wife, Morgan and Mattie were standing guard while he rested. He breathed deeply, a soft sigh, letting his consciousness sink back into the ether.

The soft caress from a familiar hand stopped him from drifting off. From far away his name was being called, and so he listened, trying his best to answer. "John, dearest, wakeup. Look at me, John. John." Drops of wetness splattered his cheeks and forehead. The smell of her hair and the gentle feel of her lips had his eyelids fluttering.

"Head wound." Someone whispered.

"He's lost a lot of blood." Was the reply.

"I know. John, can you hear me? Mattie, hand me another cold towel this one's covered in blood."

He thought he answered her. Wasn't he moving his lips? Didn't sound come out of his mouth? Why then was she still crying? Again he called back. Again he tried to open his eyes. The towel from his forehead was removed and replaced by a fresh one. Coolness seeped into his splitting head, easing the pain, and the queasy feeling in his stomach.

"I'm here, my love." Her voice was a breathy whisper against his ear. "Everything is going to be all right. Just lie still." He felt her gentle touch skim over the side of his head, and suddenly his headache evaporated.

"Alexis, don't."

"Don't?" He heard her gasped, before he felt the weight of another body leaning against the bed. "Mattie, listen to what you're saying. You're asking me to sit here and watch my husband suffer, possibly die."

"He wouldn't want you to hurt your unborn child, Alex. You know that. Let Morgan fetch the doctor. Please don't take unnecessary risks."

A hot burst of breath blew across his face, a sound that was so familiar to him after five years of marriage. She was struggling to control her rising temper. A trait she had mastered and one he had not. "Very well." She signed, "but if his condition should deteriorate… I need another towel, Mattie. That's good, thank you."

Then he heard her say, "this should help, John," as another cold clothe was rotated and placed across the side of his head, directly over the dark bruise that was growing more ominous by the minute. Thank you, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to hold her hand, kiss her lips, see her face, touch the soft locks of her hair, but he was so tired, so weak. The darkness was calling again, and willingly he started to turn away from Alex's voice, eager to sink once again into the black depths, when he felt an overwhelming wave of warmth wash over him, through him, sinking deep into every fiber of his being. It felt like a swell, like a hot wall of water touching every inch of skin. He knew, without a doubt, it was a pure force of energy that enveloped his body seeking out every wound, every injury and healing them instantly. Stronger than any healing force his wife could produce, he realized this gift he received came directly from his unborn child. Following on the heels of that thought he distinctly heard a baby's joyful laughter.

His eyes fluttered open to rest upon the red-eyed, tear-streaked face of his wife. "Oh, thank you, Lord." She gasped and burst out into fresh sobs, laying soft kisses against his face, and neck. "Oh, John, John. I was so frightened."

The strength in his arms had returned and he used that potency to wrap them around Alex, holding her close whispering soft words of comfort against her ear. "I'm all right, darlin." While casting a concerned eye to the other occupants of the room. Strangely missing was the one person he was most eager to see. "Did I imagine Fabrizio? Is he here?"

"Yes," Alex sniffed, rubbing the back of her hand across her wet cheek. "He had been trailing Breakenridge, but lost him in New Orleans eight days ago. Thank God he had the common sense to come directly here, knowing revenge would be foremost on the demon's agenda. He's outside now searching the grounds in case there are any other vampires."

Again Doc hugged her close, kissing her deeply in spite of the audience standing around the bed. "Alexis." He whispered into her mouth.

"John," She answered while kissing him back, "you're a terribly brave idiot and I think I really hate you for that."

He laughed and held her away from his body so that he could look at her more clearly. "Darlin, we have got to talk about this child of ours."

Alex wrapped her arm around her stomach, freely caressing the surface. "I know. I know. But seriously, John, what can we do? He was only trying to help."

* * *

**Two Weeks Later….**

"Doc! Doc, wake up." She shook his shoulder again, only harder this time.

"Alex, stop it! I'm trying to sleep." He growled, refusing to turn and look at her.

"John, please. You have to get up. My water just broke."

He grunted and pulled the covers over his head to block her out. "Your water didn't break, damn it. You wet the bed again. Go back to sleep."

The shaking escalated and was suddenly followed by a loud gasp resulting in a solid punch to his ribs. "Ouch!" He sat upright and turned on her readying to do battle. "What?"

"I'm in labor you jerk. Go get Dr. Sims."

Any films of sleep were quickly washed away. Wide-awake now, he turned to light the oil lamp sitting on his nightstand, taking note of the early morning hour. "Are you sure?" He asked, but didn't need to hear her reply. Helplessly, he watched as her face contorted with pain as another contraction peaked. "Alex." He gasped, while helping her to sit up better, stuffing several pillows behind her back.

Panting she tried to breathe through the pain. "Hurry! I don't think this kid wants to wait."

"Right!" Jumping up from the bed he reached for his pants, boots and the discarded shirt he left on the floor. "I'll go wake Mattie to sit with you. I won't be long." Leaning in, he kissed her as the first wave of excitement began to circle through his stomach. His child would be born this very day. _His_ baby – a product of his love for Alex. _God let it be a girl, _he prayed. _A sweet-faced, blue-eyed little girl with blonde curls just like her mother's._

But mostly he prayed for the baby to be normal. Two eyes, one nose, ten toes, and ten fingers. Normal. The powerfully odd occurrences several weeks ago still had him shaken. And as he patiently waited with Alex for the birth, they both wondered, and worried over what to expect when the newest Holliday finally arrived. After his miraculous healing, there had been no more miracles. No other strange events, and only that one time did he hear the high-pitched giggle of his baby's laughter.

Strangely, Major gave them the only clue that things were still out of the norm. The dog had suddenly taken a particular interest in Alex's stomach. He followed her all around the house, shadowing her from room to room, often whining as he went. And when Alex would finally stop to rest he would sit in front of her to stare at her belly, cocking his head to one side as if he was listening to something no one else could hear.

And if trailing his wife wasn't enough to raise Doc's curiosity, for the past week the canine refused to accompany him when he left for work in the morning. No amount of pleading, begging or ordering could keep the dog in the carriage. The last time he fought with the animal he had managed to hold him on the buggy seat until they arrived in town, but as soon as the carriage stopped, Major jumped out and ran back home. After that, Doc gave up completely and just let the dog do as he pleased.

"Tell Dr. Sims I want drugs. Lots of them." Alex groaned from her position in bed. She had scooted over to sit on his side of the mattress. The dry side of the bed, he noted with a smug smile.

Laughing at her silly request, he hurried out the door calling loudly to Mattie as he made his way down the hall.

* * *

"Well, Doctor Holliday? What have you to say?" Dr. Sims inquired as he closed the snaps on his black medical bag. "You're strangely quiet for a man who is privileged enough to call himself father again."

Doc floundered. Words and phrases that often came easily to him now left him barren, forgotten, silent. "I'm…as always Dr. Sims, I'm grateful for your services. But this shocking development will take some time to adjust to."

The elderly silver-haired doctor only laughed and adjusted his hat to sit more firmly on his head. "Go upstairs, John, and sit with your wife. I think you will be amazed at how quickly one can adjust to just about anything." Still chuckling softly at the younger man's predicament, he nodded his farewell and walked out the back door.

"He is a very wise man, Senior Holliday." Fabrizio offered as he came strolling into the kitchen.

Doc looked up from the brandy he was holding and gave the tall Italian a weary smile. "I thought we agreed you would call me by my Christian name, Fabrizio?"

The smile he sported broadened. "Scusa. I forget sometimes." He paused, waiting for the retired gambler to make the next comment, but the silence only lengthened. Confused, Fabrizio watched Doc quietly study his brandy as if in a daze. "John, your wife… she will be wondering why you don't attend to her."

"I know." Doc replied but still made no effort to rise from his seat. Without looking up he took another sip of his drink while reaching into his pocket for his tobacco. "Did she send you to collect me?"

"No." Fabrizio replied with a frown. "She asked for a cold drink. I am here to get her a glass of lemonade."

Doc struck a match and smoked in silence as he watched the other man fill a large glass. Finally, "It's been a trying month, Fabrizio. I guess the shock is starting to hit me."

"Si. My mama used to say 'it is best to put your past behind you, where you are less likely to look for it'. Capire? Upstairs waiting for you is your future, and she thirsty for your attentions." He thrust the glass under Doc's nose, lifting his eyebrows in a silent question.

Doc drained his brandy and quickly snubbed out his smoke. Rising from his chair, he snatched the glass from the Guardian's hand. "You damn Italians always have some flowery words of wisdom to offer, don't you?"

Fabrizio patted him strongly on the back and watched as the dentist sprinted up the back stairs, taking two risers at a time.

"I hear my girl is thirsty." Doc crooned as he walked toward the bed eyeballing the dog who had somehow managed to possess his side of the mattress.

Alex looked up from the baby she was holding an expression of concern clearly written on her face. She decided to remain silent, however. Her husband had been through a lot lately. Tonight was just the cherry on top of his Sunday. Silently, she breathed a sigh of relief when he sat down on the bed next to her, passing her the cool drink. "How are you feeling, darlin?"

"Hmm. Sore, tired, split in two, you know… the usual."

He chuckled softly at her humor. "And how is our new son?"

"He's perfect." She breathed. "Look at how beautiful his lips are, and that cute little dimple in his chin. Clearly a Holliday feature."

"Clearly." He echoed as he leaned over to kiss the small head. "He's so quiet."

"John, I had no idea. Really, I didn't. I would have told you if I did. I mean… I knew something was different, but this never crossed my mind."

He waved away her concern. "Shhh. Alex, I'm not upset. I'm just a little… shocked I guess. As you must be, too."

She nodded and looked quickly across the room toward Mattie and Sun Li who were huddled together. Mattie smiled and walked across the room to ease a matching small buddle into John's arms. "Stop being such a sissy, Johnny. You are blessed tonight. Just imagine… twins. A first for our family."

"Twins." Doc echoed as he gazed down into his newborn daughter's face. "And finally, I have a little girl to spoil. Thank you, Alexis." Gently with the edge of one finger, he caressed the baby's soft cheek.

"And you have an answer to the potent gift the babies exhibited." Sun Li explained. "In Chinese culture, twins are viewed as very, very good luck. It is chi in perfect balance between two beings. Together, they can exhibit a powerful force, as you saw for yourselves. My father has already suggested we have a blessing to welcome such fortunate souls."

"An excellent idea, Sun. But… we need to name them first." Alex looked toward her husband, secretly aware of one name he might have in mind.

"I know what you're thinking Alex, and yes, I have considered that option, but…" He looked down at the baby he held and swallowed uncomfortably, a habit he had whenever the topic of his mother was discussed. "But not as a first name. It would be too painful to hear everyday."

"Only for a time, John. After awhile, you would find it less and less painful. That's part of healing, dearest." Alex waited until he raised his eyes to lock with hers. Gently she reached out with her free hand to skim the tips of her fingers across his cheek.

"She's right." Mattie added. "You have mourned too long. It is time to put your painful memories away for good. They will only continue to haunt you if you don't. Besides, your mother would not want you to bear such heartache."

He nodded and swallowed painfully again, looking back down at the sleeping baby girl resting in the crook of his arm. With one finger he reached out to tap the blonde curl dangling from the top of her head. "Very well." He sighed. "We will call her Alice Marie Holliday, after my mother and your mother too, Alex."

"I like it." She smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "But… what about this little guy?" She asked while looking down at the baby. "We've already used up John, Henry, Alexander, Robert. How about Skip?" She teased with a twinkle of merriment lighting up her eyes.

Doc snorted. "Not bloody likely." He grumbled, mimicking his wife's English accent and manner of speech. "How about William McKey Holliday? William, my 3rd great grandfather, was the first Holliday to step on American soil."

"And McKey being your mother's maiden name." Alex confirmed. "William and Alice. I like it."

Well, that's settled." He yawned, and looked toward the windows. "It's nearly noon. How about a nap, Mrs. Holliday? I could certainly use one, and I know you are probably exhausted." He handed off Alice to his cousin when she reached to hold the baby again.

"I am." Alex agreed. "A nap sounds lovely, but there is one other item on my agenda I would like to get out of the way." She looked rapidly around the room, "If only my confidant was here…" There was a light tapping on the door making Alex smile. "Come in Fabrizio."

The tall Italian gracefully entered, issuing a small bow once he stood in the center of the room. Dressed in a charcoal gray suit, deep blue waistcoat and cravat, he looked very civilized. Normal was the first word that popped into Alex's head. But underneath all those layers of civility was a man who had seen the darkest evil and lived to tell about it. Only her eyes were able to spot the tight edge he concealed so well, and under that edge was a weary soul. Which was why she was glad he had stayed so long to visit with her, and during the past few weeks she gotten to know Fabrizio better and found him to be a very good company. Only recently did she decide to push the boundaries of their new friendship with hopes of making it into something a little more lasting.

Fabrizio looked first at Alex and mumbled a few words to her in Italian to which she gave a short reply, but it was hard to miss how his eyes lingered on Mattie and more importantly how Mattie received him. Her expression, while bright and joyful as she held the infant, now took on a whole new look, one Alex recognized as longing. _Could it be?_ She wondered while shifting her eyes toward John hoping he wouldn't notice what had just transpired.

Thankfully he was busy gazing at his new son. Alex said a small prayer and proceeded to the next item on her agenda. "John," She waited until he raised his eyes to look at her, "About our vampire visitor…"

His expression darkened, and like a blown out matchstick, Doc's eyes became just as dead. Quickly she reached forward placing a calming hand over his arm. "Don't…" she pleaded, "we need to talk about this."

"Now, Alex?" He uttered low, letting her know he was not pleased at being blindsided.

"Yes, now, but I have a reason…" She waited until he sighed loudly and looked at her for an explanation. "I'm firing you." She declared.

"What?" He blinked.

"You are no longer allowed to hunt the things that go bump in the night, or in the day for that matter. From this moment on you are to be nothing by my husband and father to my children."

He tossed her a sideways smirk raising one finger to shake in her direction. "Very funny, Alexis, tossing my own words back into my face. You forget who wears the pants in the family and I'm telling you…"

"Shut up, John." She spit back at him. "I'm trying to tell you something, and it's important… very important." She paused when Mattie stifled a giggle while taking several steps back from the bed.

"You were seriously hurt."

"What the hell was I suppose to do!" He snapped. "Sit around and wait for that…."

"Peace…" she pleaded, placing a gentle hand over his cheek, "I'm tired of fighting about this."

He huffed loudly, turned away and pulled out his tobacco and papers to roll a smoke. "You're tired?"

"I want to propose a solution. Wait…" She warned him with one finger raised to halt any stern comment he meant to make. "This is one you will like, of that I am very sure. I've been talking… we've been talking." She nodded toward Fabrizio. When Doc turned to look at the Guardian, Fabrizio bowed again, and mumbled a request for Doc's pardon in Italian.

"Fabrizio grows weary of battle, and since he is long past the time when he could retire from the field, I took it upon myself to offer him a job here on the ranch. In return he has agreed to handle any unnatural elements that might come our way. God forbid there should be any more." She finished her speech by quickly crossing herself, smiling quickly at Mattie when the nun said a quick pray in Latin.

Doc stared at her wide-eyed with shock and then he stood to face Fabrizio. "You would do this for us?"

"Si, Senior Holliday. I would consider it an honor to protect your family."

Doc nodded and looked back at Alex. "And you agree to stick to your end of our bargain?"

"Of course. I gave you my word didn't I? I want the same guarantee from you John. I've already lost my parents and one husband to demons, I don't want to loose you too. Promise me?"

He leaned down, kissed her face, giving her a half-cocked smile. "I promise….that I won't go patrolling unless it is extremely necessary, and never alone. I will bring Fabrizio with me."

She frowned, reaching up to smack him lightly across the arm. "I really hate you sometime, John Henry."

Doc chuckled and kissed her again anyway, before he turned to Fabrizio to seal their bargain. He thrust his hand at the Italian, smiling when the other man received it. "Think about what type of house you would like Fabrizio. I intend to have one constructed for you."

The Italian beamed. "This I can most certainly do, John. It has been years since I had a home of my own."

Alex cast a sideways glance at her cousin-in law. Was it her imagination, or did Mattie Holliday suddenly look more radiant, more hopeful?

* * *

Peace.

It wasn't just lack of commotion in her bedroom; it was something she felt deep inside, next to her soul. The lights were off, and only the soft glow from the fireplace lit the room. Warm, comfortable and completely naked, she lay cuddled against Doc's side, head cradled on his shoulder. The mindless game his fingers were playing with her hair that fanned across his chest was sealing the quiet moment. Peaceful. Secure. Safe. And a hundred other words that she could choose to label the moment. At this instant, it felt like life had always been good, full of love and happiness. All the unpleasant moments, sadness and grief seemed a million miles away. Her sleep tonight would be dreamless. All her worries for the moment were gone.

Their company had retired early for the night. John Jr. and Alexander were fast asleep in the bedroom across the hall. Her two new babies lying together in a cradle near her side of the bed. She would have to feed them every four hours or so. Sleep would be brief for the next several months, brief, peaceful sleep.

Doc and Alexis had talked for two solid hours, sitting on the bed with the Alice and William, sharing a meal off of one single dinner plate. Doc confessed that he liked nothing more than to watch her breastfeed. Sitting next to her, helping her hold the infant to her breast. Talking and laughing together in low voices. He would periodically caress and kiss her. A soft stroke with his one finger brushing lightly against the top of her breast, smoothing her hair with the palm of his hand, or letting the tip of his tongue dip into every sensitive crevasse along her shoulder and neck. He was building the moment, increasing the sexual tension between them until she couldn't stand it anymore.

After both babies had drunk their fill, his advances became more aggressive. She was more than ready for him. "Alexis." He breathed into her mouth, his hand sliding between her legs, stroking, teasing, testing to make sure she was healed enough to receive him.

She hooked one leg over his hip letting him slide into her slowly, gently, until his whole body trembled with pent up passion. "God, I've missed you." He confessed, while keeping his pace slow and steady.

It always amazed her how quickly he could get her caught up in the moment. With just the right touch, or whispered endearment, she was his for the taking, but hadn't it always been this way between them? It was during these intimate moments when barriers broke down. When every emotion between them was revealed. When the walls and masks they hid behind were removed.

She had been patiently waiting for this night when he would come to her, eager to loose himself in the pleasures he took from her body. For the past two weeks she had been plagued with questions. Gnawing, itchy questions that refused to be lessened by love, family, security or the passage of time. Tonight she hoped to get the answers she needed.

They had talked very little about his encounter with Billy Breakenridge. Whenever she tried to open the topic John would quickly change the subject. To the casual observer he would appear to be unaffected, but Alex knew better. There were little signs that told her he was still traumatized, that the fear he felt that night went very deep, so deep he refused to discuss it with anyone. She would often wake in the middle of the night and find him sitting quietly in his chair by the fire, smoking and thinking in silence. The level of brandy in the crystal decanter would decrease by half during those sleepless nights. Once or twice she asked him what was wrong, but prying only made him uneasy, or worse, made him angry. Convincing him to come back to bed was not often successful. If and when he complied, she would secretly ease him into sleep with a touch of her finger. And for a few hours he would be at peace, at least until the nightmares had him lurching halfway across the bed again.

Hopefully, tonight he would open his soul, and tell her about the fears he carried next to his heart. But would she be able to help him? Gazing up at his face, she searched for any trace of pain, or lingering terror from his close encounter with death. His eyes were closed, shoulders hunched, head bowed ever so slightly. From his slackened mouth, she heard him groan softly, panting just a little bit harder. He was close, but not close enough.

Her hand slid down his back, cupping his one cheek, she squeezed the warm muscle, separating his buttocks until he gasped and jerked against her. A soft word was uttered, like a hot puff of air. She was unable to make out what he said, but the meaning was clear enough. Reaching with her fingers she dipped inside his crevasse, and began to stoke him. When he gasped again she clearly heard his expletive.

His eyes were open now, staring down at her, naked but for the pleasure she saw baking inside the deep blue orbs. "I love you." She whispered as she reached out, made the mental connection and began to touch him as only she could. He jerked against her and yelled her name; the sudden force against her own body had her rising to a new level.

"Look at me." She commanded, and waited until he opened his eyes to gaze down at her again. "I love you, more than you'll ever know, ever understand."

A soft smile graced his lips before he leaned down to kiss her. "Alexis, what do you want of me?"

Lifting both ankles over the small of his back she took him in deeper, pleased when she saw his control slip further from his grasp. "Everything. Give me everything that is a part of your soul."

He closed his eyes and answered with a slow shake of his head, as if telling her what she asked was impossible. Yet, from under his lashes a thin line of tears emerged. Watching this, Alex increased her mental connection, coaxing him toward his peak.

His orgasm was silent. The tears that followed were not. Deep wrenching sobs tore out of his chest. His hands circled under her back pulling her in against his chest until he could bury his face within the folds of her hair. For a full five minutes he cried, and Alex held him the entire time, relieved that he was finally venting some of the turbulent emotion he held inside. She didn't offer him words of comfort. She didn't tell him it would be all right, and that he was safe now, or that she would never let harm come to him again. All those statements she knew too well were flat-out lies. In her world, evil could grab you at any time, and your life afterwards would never be the same again. Safety was an illusion brought on by ignorance. Stupid she was not, nor was her husband. So instead of words of comfort she just held him, and when he was through she dried his tears, and then she made love to him again.

Forty-five minutes later she was nestled against his side, sinking deeper and deeper into the peace of the moment. "I should have listened to you." He finally said while staring at the ceiling.

Alex waited a moment before answering, testing and weighing the correct response in her head before voicing the words out loud. "You always do what you feel is the right thing to protect our family. I can't fault you for that. You were very brave, John."

"Very stupid, you mean. I almost made you a widow again." A nervous twitch in his hand sought her hair and began to play with it, twisting, curling and then smoothing the long tresses.

"Almost," she echoed with a bitter smile, "but not quite. Fabrizio was there. Morgan was there. In the end things turned out all right."

He sighed loudly, finding the ceiling boring he turned to look at her. "I suppose I should be grateful you didn't say, I told you so."

"Hmm," she murmured, "the phrase did pop into my head but I decided to be proactive rather than vent my frustration at you."

"Indeed. It was pure genius on your part to talk the Guardian into staying here to protect us." The tone in his voice bordered on the edge of sarcasm.

Now it was her turn to sigh. "It's a workable solution to _our_ problem. You insist that I must be nothing but a housewife, and you are not trained to tackle demons. Do you find fault with my reasoning, John? And are you going to pick a fight over it?"

"No." He whispered. "I just wish his presence wasn't necessary. I wish…" His voice trailed off and once again he focused on the ceiling.

She reached out to smooth the lines of worry she saw in his face. "I know. Me too." Raising her upper body to rest against one elbow, she leaned over to kiss him deeply, loving the taste and smell of his body.

After a moment he pulled away, a serious expression plastered on his face. "Will it always be like this, Alex? With dark aspects of your past forever threatening us, and our children?"

She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Fabrizio is not sure how Breakenridge survived. It's plausible that he may have crawled under a porch for protection from the holy rain."

He raised both brows at her. "And no one saw him emerge?"

"When he had me pinned on the porch, he made reference to hiding in the dark for several months. I'm thinking he might have just stayed under the porch or floor of a building, which would explain why no one saw him. When the time was right he escaped to a new shelter. Just last year, another Guardian on patrol in Mexico caught sight of Billy alive and well in a saloon close to the Arizona border and sent word to Fabrizio. He's been tracking him on and off for the better part of four months, John."

"He should have sent word to us." The statement was bitter and filled with resentment.

"He didn't want to alarm me, or you."

Doc grunted with suppressed annoyance. "Well, now I'm alarmed and pissed. What now, Alex? What happens next?"

She shrugged, "We go on with our lives, John, just as we always have."

He sighed again; passing her a worried expression that Alex knew from previous experience would be present for several months or at least until her husband felt safe again. Slowly, he relaxed into the mattress, his eyes glazing over with approaching sleep. Wrapping his hand around her shoulder he pulled her down to tuck her head against his shoulder.

"I think I'll sleep better tonight." Doc murmured into her ear, kissed her gently and slipped into peaceful slumber.

**THE END… for now.**


	7. Six Years After Their Wedding

**Six Years Later…**

**A particular month, day and year has Alex very much on edge.**

* * *

"Our horse placed third." Doc folded the paper with the news article on top and passed it to his wife. Alex reached for the paper, giving it only a passing glance before spooning another mouthful of cereal into her daughter's mouth. The paper she placed on her lap, but it wasn't the sports column that captured her attention, it was the date clearly written at the top of the page. The nervous twitch that had been present in her stomach for the past three days performed a summersault making her gag on the toast she just swallowed.

"I thought Wyatt said this horse was a sure thing." She replied so that her husband wouldn't think she was ignoring him.

Doc snorted with controlled humor. "Wyatt and 'a sure thing' are like two ships passing in the night. But don't tell him I said so."

Alex watched Doc hide his smirk behind the folds of his napkin, wipe his mustache clean and toss the material onto the table. "I'm late." He sighed, glancing quickly at the clock on the wall. "What time is dinner tonight?"

"The usual time." Alex replied without looking up. She briefly glanced over the racing report that gave a blow-by-blow description of Crimson Crest's loss. The horse's racing name was taken from Wyatt's nickname for his redheaded son. The baby was now two-months old and had shocked the Earp clan by sporting a full head of copper hair at his birth; a trait that was not common in Wyatt's family. Before the ex-lawman could make any humorous accusations, Josie had quickly explained that red hair was very prominent in her family and that Wyatt shouldn't go looking for a fight.

Doc leaned down to kiss his wife and then delicately kiss Alice, his daughter, skirting around several globs of wet oatmeal stuck to her face. The baby let out a squeal of delight while trying unsuccessfully to capture her father's neatly pressed waistcoat. "Would you mind if I was late for supper tonight. There's a game at Church's Inn I'd like to sit in on." Reaching to retrieve his suit coat, he shrugged his arms through the cloth.

Her stomach flipped again, making Alex press her palm to her chest to still the wild unease in her heart. "Dinner will be ruined." The excuse was a weak one but it sometimes worked.

"Eat without me." He offered, as if he was doing her a favor. "I'll pick up something at the pub."

She watched him say goodbye to John Jr., Alexander, and Alice's twin, William, before reaching for his hat. Major pranced with impatience at the back door eagerly urging his master to hurry.

He had almost breached the doorway when she jumped up from her chair to stop him. "John!" She called, reaching for his arm. He turned, one brow raised in question and Alex stumbled over an excuse to stop him. "Uh… how late will you be? Ah, I mean, I could wait for you, with dinner I mean. Perhaps a nice romantic meal for two?" Her hands slipped underneath his coat, finding the cloth of his vest warm and inviting. The ache within her heart doubled. Pressing against him she leaned up to place a tender kiss on the edge of his chin. "I could arrange candlelight, satin pillows and powdered flesh, if you wish it?" Knowing that folds of her robe would block the children's view, she skimmed one hand down from his chest, across his stomach to linger on the inside of his thigh.

Doc groaned either from impatience or need, Alex couldn't tell. "Seduction, Mrs. Holliday, at eight o'clock in the morning?"

"No time like the present, Mr. Holliday."

"Still," he paused to drape a strong arm across her back and kiss her passionately while reaching for her hand between his legs to guide it over his growing erection. "As much as it pains me, and disappoints you, a man has got to have other interests. I won't be late, Alexis, or too drunk, so be ready for me when I get home."

Helpless to do or say more, Alex watched him snatch a warm wool coat off a hook near the door and gesture to Major. Seconds later, his horse and buggy were trotting down the drive toward town.

She returned to the table where Alice, who was just six months old, was busy decorating her hair with the remains from her cereal bowl. "Blast!" Alex hissed, ignoring the mess the baby was making. Glancing once more at the date on the paper, she felt hopeless tears spring to her eyes, causing the typed digits, November 7, 1887, to blur into one black and white mess. "What do I do now?"

Always attentive to his mother's emotional needs, the eldest Holliday child, John junior, studied his mother from across the table. "What's the matter, Mama?" A newly formed ridge of worry emerged above the bridge of his nose.

The little boy's facial expression was familiar, and lately one that she saw gazing back at her every morning in her dressing table mirror. "Oh, it's nothing, Johnny, she quickly lied, giving the child a weak smile. "I'm fretting over what to do about dinner since your father will not be eating with us tonight."

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Alex?" Allie asked with a sharp brow arching over one magnificent blue eye. The hour was still early with breakfast dishes scattered across the Earp's kitchen table. Allie had received Alex still dressed in her nightgown and robe, her hair draped in blonde waves over her back and shoulders. Virgil had gotten lucky and was able to slip out of the room to dress, giving the two women a few moments in private.

Turning toward her right, Allie smiled softly at the infant snuggled safely in the basinet sitting next to the table and reached in to adjust the pink blanket that covered her first born. The babe was barely three-weeks old, and still a novelty to both her parents.

"Oh, yes. Make no mistake, Allie, I've never been more certain of anything in my life." She jabbed her index finger at the newspaper sitting on the table in an effort to vent some of her frustration. "Tomorrow is November 8, 1887; the date of death for the John Holliday in my timeline. My husband has got stay inside the house for the rest of the week just to be certain."

With her attention still focused on the child, Allie made a soft murmur, acknowledging Alex's comment. "Do you think she's warm enough?" She asked while tucking in a lose corner at the baby's feet. "Maybe I should get another blanket. The kitchen can be so chilly in the morning."

Hiding her amusement at the new mother's nerves, Alex stuck one finger inside the basket to stroke the baby's neck and shoulder. "She warm enough, Allie. You already have two blankets on her, any more and she'll start to sweat."

"Are you sure?" She asked without looking away from her daughter's face.

This time she couldn't hold back. Alex chuckled out loud. "Positive. You don't want to overheat her."

Allie sighed loudly and sank back into her chair, giving her friend a strained look. "I'm a wreck, aren't I?"

The nervous energy Allie was displaying had prompted Alex to study the woman's demeanor at length. From the start of friend's pregnancy to the moment labor was concluded had been a stressful time for the petite blonde. The pressure was a direct result of many years filled with longing to be mother, which was something Alex could relate to. But now that Elizabeth Louisa Earp was finally here, Allie's tension had only increased.

"Just a tad, but that's to be expected."

"How ironic this is – you giving me advice on parenting. When not more than six years ago I remember you blubbering for half an hour at Louisa's kitchen table over your pre-parenting jitters."

"That was different." Alex quickly huffed. "I've never even held a baby in the nineteenth century let alone gave birth to one. How was I to know about prehistoric diapers, bottles, and breastfeeding?"

"And now you're an old pro and I'm the nervous ninny. But," she quickly added with a wicked gleam, "my uneasiness is nothing when compared to Virgil's. Why, just last night he tried to change her diaper as I took a bath, and he stabbed himself half a dozen times with the pin hard enough to cause bleeding on three of his big fingers. He finally gave up on fastening it and pulled every cloth out of the drawer trying to find one big enough he could tie in knots."

"Did Lizzy cry?" Alex asked through a smile, referring to the baby's nickname.

"Hell, no. She's daddy's little girl and he can do no wrong. Virgil, on the other hand, was almost in tears. I spent the next thirty minutes teaching him how to change a diaper. I told him he needn't bother, but he wants to learn everything. He said if Wyatt and Morgan could do it then he could too."

Again Alex chuckled. "It's the same way with Alice. She'll be screaming her head off and I've no idea why or how to comfort her, and as soon as John walks through the back door she stops and coos to him. She's a born flirt, just like her father." As suddenly as her smile appeared, it just as quickly crumbled. Alex leaned into the palm of her hand and sobbed.

"Alexis!" Alarmed at the other woman's loss of composure, Allie leaped to her feet throwing her arms around her friend's shoulders. "My God, you really believe he's going to die this week, don't you?"

"I don't know. I don't know." She whimpered. "I'm afraid, Allie. What if I ignore it and something should happen, but if I tell Doc he'll laugh at me and disregard my fears anyway."

"What's going on?" A deep voice rumbled from the opposite side of the kitchen. Virgil made his way over to the women, lifting one brow of concern at his wife, silently asking for an explanation.

"It's November 7th, Virg, and according to Alex's history and timeline, the other Doc Holliday dies on November 8, 1887. Alex is frightened, and concerned."

He grumbled a reply while taking his place at the table. "And let me guess, Doc brushed off your fears with a bad joke, right?"

"He doesn't know." Alex sniffed, while wiping at her nose with her hanky – a hanky with the initials JHH embroidered in one corner. "But you're right; he would never take me seriously."

"And to make matters worse he's going to that card game at Church's Inn tonight. Gambling, money and liquor are a dangerous combination." Allie explained as if Virgil had never stepped inside a saloon before.

The ex-lawman heaved a weary sigh. "This isn't Tombstone or even Dodge City, Allie. Poker games aren't half as explosive in Kentucky."

"I know that." Alexis sniffed. "It's the timing that has me worried. He hasn't sat in on a game for at least a month and now, on the eve of doom's day, he decides he wants to hang out at a saloon."

_A month long absence from cards is probably why he needs to get out. _Virgil thought. "You knew how he was when you married him, Alex. Frankly, I'm surprised Doc's as settled as he is. Did you try telling him he needs to come home tonight?"

"No," She scoffed. "I'm aware of how altered his lifestyle is. I would never refuse him some time to himself. I don't want him to feel confined and he works too hard to have me nag at him, too."

Virgil groaned and rubbed a nervous hand across his mustache. Both women were looking to him for answers; the emotional pressure gage inside his chest was increasing by the second. "Well… there's only one solution to this problem that I can see – it looks like I'm playing poker tonight."

Alex heaved a sign of relief, satisfied that the ex-lawman would be looking out for Doc. "Thank you, Vigil."

* * *

The little silver bell over Doc Holliday's reception room door began to sing a sweet high-pitched jingle. Doc looked up from Mrs. Harmon's desk where he had been glancing over his appointments and raised one brow at his visitor. "Damn, Virgil. Judging from the expression on your face, I'd say your whole mouth must be paining you."

Virgil ignored the cutting comment and nodded a greeting while glancing around the vacant room. "Not busy today, Doc?" He leaned down to pet the Labrador who had jumped up from his bed to welcome the burly lawman.

"Not quite… Mrs. Harmon is ill with a cold, and I'm at a loss as to how to manage the office without her." He shook his head while glancing down at his schedule again. "Two of my afternoon appointments canceled and one didn't show. I hate having gaps in my day, but now that you're here…" Doc reached into his white doctor's coat he wore to protect his clothes, pulled out a pair of large extractors and began to open and close the instrument rapidly, making a ominous clacking sound. "Are you feeling lucky today?"

Virgil grinned despite the wave of nerves that coursed through his stomach as he looked at the shiny pliers of death. "I should warn you I'm armed. Come at me with those things and I'm liable to shoot your hand off."

Doc placed the extractors back into his pocket. "Fair enough." He nodded with a sly smile. "Pray tell, what can I do for you today?"

"I've just been speaking with your wife, Doc. Have you noticed anything wrong with Alex lately?"

"No." Doc leaned back into the chair and frowned. "What do you know that I should?" A sharp edge emerged in his voice telling Virgil to tread with care.

Despite the warning, Virgil stepped in close to the desk. "I just had a history lessen about the other John Henry Holliday from Alex's world. It seems that historical figure passed away on November 8, 1887."

Doc sat forward, an expression of surprised sprang to his face. "What the fuck? When I asked her what day the other Doc Holliday died, Alex told me she didn't know!"

"She didn't want to alarm you or cause you to worry, but now that this problem been dumped on my lap…"

"And today is the 7th of November." Doc interrupted. He looked across the room, letting his mind wander over the morning events. "No wonder she wanted a romantic dinner tonight. And here I thought it might be my charismatic charm that held my wife in awe." Glancing back at Virgil he continued, "I suppose she sent you here to fetch me home, then?"

"Not exactly. Alex doesn't want you to feel confined. Enticing you to come home and ordering you are two different things. You have a very considerate wife, Doc, but she's worried that the timeline might still be trying to follow the same path, and considering I was shot in the arm and Morgan almost killed, I'd say she has good cause for concern."

Again Doc frowned. "The other John Holliday died of consumption. I'm not sick anymore, thanks to Alex. Frankly, I think she's being a little paranoid."

"She knew you'd feel this way," Virgil growled, "which was why she didn't say anything to you."

"Don't tell me you're all broken up with concern?" Doc smirked with one raised brow.

Virgil issued a twisted grin. "Let's just say there'll be one more sitting in the poker game tonight."

* * *

They had intended to play two or three hands at cards and then Virgil and Doc would go home, but Lady Luck was full of good favor tonight, and it wasn't long before both men found a substantial pile of winnings stacked between them.

On the floor by his feet, Major shifted and then whined loudly. Doc looked down at the dog, giving his ears an affectionate rub before glancing up at the windows, noticing the pitch-black sky and brightly lit gas streetlamps outside. "Shit." He muttered. "It must be getting late." Seeking out the clock that hung over the bar, he saw it was half past nine. Even though it was midweek, the saloon was fairly busy. The room buzzed with men laughing, drinking, smoking and gambling. Sitting in one shadow-filled corner, a few customers were engaged as they tried to procure the charms of two whores, and around the dark walnut bar sat a dozen or more customers. Out of habit he made a quick head count, and was pleased to recognize almost every member, easily recalling their names with only a few exceptions. It suddenly occurred to him that this town felt like home. Stability was no longer a concept or fantasy, he felt rooted, comfortable and welcomed here.

The few strangers at the bar were probably drifters, or men making their way out west. They had the look of travelers – comfortable clothes, sturdy boots, and windblown hats. He counted four outsiders amongst the crowd before his eyes settled on a singular man sitting at the far end of the bar. Judging from the size and shape, Doc could tell he was small in frame, and although his hat was pulled down low, covering most of his face, he had the appearance of being in his early twenties. The dirty clothes he worn spoke of many long days on the road. _He has no home,_ Doc thought. _I used to be just like that, only better dressed_.

"Doc?" The player across the table prompted. "You're drifting."

"Sorry, James. I was gathering wool. It suddenly occurred to me that this is the longest I have ever lived in one town."

"Marriage will do that to a man, Doc." Said Donald, James's brother. "What's your bet?"

Without thinking he tossed several gold coins into the pile. "I'll raise." Nodding at the large sum of money at the center of the table he commented, "Now that's a sizable nest egg if ever I saw one, James. It seems to me that if you should be so fortunate to claim that large sum, you too could advance to the rank of a married man."

James laughed softly and yet a bright twinkle sprang to his eyes. "Susie's been dropping hints, but I've been acting like I don't know what she's talking about."

"Get it done, old man. Win that pile of riches and make an honest woman out of the fair Susan." To Doc's left Virgil suddenly cackled with laughter. "I see a diamond ring in your future."

"What… get married and miss all this?" James gestured around the room, causing the men to burst out with laughter. "Then I'd end up like the two of you. No sir, my brother and I are confirmed bachelors. Aren't we Don?"

"Speak for yourself, Jimmy. I'm waiting for the right moment to steal your girl. Susie's a good woman. I'd marry her." He added two coins to the pot. "I call." He fanned out two pair across the table.

Doc glanced down at the full house he held in his hand and said nothing. Looking over at Virgil, he could tell by the way the elder Earp held the cards that his hand was no better than Don's. _Well, it's up to James and me,_ he thought.

"I raise." James announced and added to the till.

"Me too." Virgil echoed, matching the number of coins James dropped on the table.

"Ah, an optimist." Doc let a slow smile emerge and matched the bet. Drawn by the large sum of money, a small crowd had wandered over to the table to watch the game. Instinctively, Doc protected his cards, reaching to finger a gun that he no longer wore, before he remembered, _This isn't Tombstone. I'm home, playing a friendly game of cards with my friends._ He let his eyes skim over the faces that lingered around the table before glancing across the room again. A flush of relief coursed through him and suddenly he realized the urge to protect himself and the cards he held were no longer important. _My home._ He thought with pride while looking over the crowd again before noticing the singular spectator at the end of the bar was also glancing his way, giving him a clear view of two green eyes reflected in the lamplight.

With a snap, Doc's hand closed tightly around his cards. "Sorry, boys, I'm out." Without looking he tossed his hand facedown on the table. Slowly he started to rise, keeping his eyes trained on the corner of the bar he gathered his winnings for the night and place them in the pocket of his coat.

"Virgil, I'm heading home."

"Yeah, me too." Virgil tossed his hand down. "Jimmy, I'm busted. It looks like you'll get that diamond ring after all."

James grinned from ear to ear as he gathered up the money. "My Susie is going to be so surprised."

"Make it a good one." Doc suggested. When he reached for his hat and coat, the mysterious figure broke for the front door. "Gentlemen," he nodded, "it has been a pleasure. Virgil, I'll see you back at the ranch."

He didn't wait for a reply. Rushing to the door, he reached the street in time to see a shadow slink around the corner that led to the alley. Vaguely, he heard Virgil telling him to wait, that they would ride home together, but Doc refused to turn around. He took the next several yards at a quick sprint, grabbed a handful of a dark coat and slammed the other man's body up against the alley wall. He heard an all too familiar squeak before he reached up to yank off a tattered hat.

"Alex…" He growled. "You had better explain yourself!"

"Hello, John." She gasped while shaking her hair from her face. "I would yell surprise, but I think the timing would be off."

"Oh, I'm surprised – surprised, shocked, and vexed!"

With a firm hold on her shoulders he stepped back to observe her attire. Up close, the clothing was even more tattered, torn and faded to an ugly gray-brown color. The pants were rolled up at the cuff, a large hole gaped from her left knee. He almost laughed aloud when he noticed her highly polished shoes. Even though the rest of her outfit looked like something from the rag pile, Alex had chosen a pair of expensive handmade walking boots that she often wore while working around the horses. The comcial contrast between the worn pants and the gleaming leather on her feet was rapidly cooling his anger. Raking his eyes up her body, he recognized his brown suspenders that held her slacks in place. The only protection she had against the cold November weather came from an overlarge hand-woven wool coat that was strangely similar to what the miners in Tombstone would wear. Underneath that was a coarse brown shirt that was buttoned up to the collar.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" He screeched. At his feet, Major gave Alex a quick sniff, wiggled in greeting and then wandered off to pee.

"Mr. Li's old clothes." She grinned while straightening the collar on her coat. "They were a good size."

"Is this supposed to be funny? What if someone recognized you?"

"I can explain…"

"Don't bother. I already know why you're here; Virgil told me everything." Now that the shock of seeing her was subsiding, the humor in the situation was taking over, but he wasn't ready to let Alex off the hook just yet. With an effort he bit the inside of his mouth to keep his smile at bay. "How long were you sitting in there?"

"Two hours; enough time to consume four glasses of whiskey. It's been awhile since I drank so much. I almost fell off the stool once, not that you noticed. I'd forgotten how intensely focused you can be when you gamble. It's kinda hot actually."

Confused, he frowned down at her. "Hot? Oh, you mean attractive sexually." Most of her twenty-first century slang he was familiar with, but tonight she sprung a new word on him. Normally, she practiced restraint and suppressed her modern speech, but the whiskey was obviously relaxing her. He let his hand slip from her shoulder to her waist. She wore no corset he realized, feeling the beginnings of a warm sensation emerge in his stomach.

"Yeah, hot." She grinned up at him, and he noticed her face was smudged with a thin layer of dirt. _Leave it to Alex to wear makeup that matches her outfit._

"So, you thought you would dress in our servant's clothing, sneak into a fully occupied saloon and spy on me?" Lightly, he fingered her shirt, popping open several buttons at random. "Do you really believe I'm going to die just because the other Holliday lost his life in November of 1887?

"I wanted to make sure you were safe, that's all." Alex felt his hand slip between the buttons and begin to tease her nipple. She shivered. "Your fingers are cold."

"I thought you said I was hot." He murmured in a low voice. Before she could respond he pinched her sharply, smiling when her whole body jerked with surprise.

"I did at that." She groaned while rapping her arms around his shoulders. When he kissed her she melted against him, relief flowing through her at the feel of his warm body pressed against hers.

"Doc?" Virgil called as he came shuffling into the alley.

Doc turned his head slightly, observed the moonlight gleaming off the barrel of Virgil's gun, and chuckled out loud. "Virgil, you can put your gun away."

Virgil eased forward several more feet with the gun still held in his hand. "What's going on here?" A tone of warning had creeped into his voice.

"I captured a spy." Doc replied as he stepped to the side, exposing Alex.

"Ah, hell." Virgil grumbled. "Alex, damn it, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sit still and wait anymore." She answered meekly while holding her shirt closed.

Both men laughed.

"She snuck into the saloon dressed as a man." Doc explained as he gave Alex a warm seductive smile. "She was worried about me." Without thinking, his hand reached for a lock of her hair and began to finger the soft texture.

Virgil huffed loudly and holstered his gun. "I'm going home. You two…" at a loss for words, he made a little dismissive gesture before shaking his head again. "It's late. I'm going home to my wife and daughter."

Doc watched the lawman walk off before turning back to Alex. "So, Mrs. Holliday…" he leaned in, pressing her back against the building, "do you often dress in male attire to frequent saloons at night?"

She raised one elegant brow at him. "What do you think?"

His eyes grew heavy, head dipping lower to hover just above her lips. "I think it's hot." He breathed, right before claiming her mouth.

* * *

"So… are we agreed?" Alex leaned back, running her hands slowly down the length of his chest until she came to the slim curve of his hips and there she was stopped short by her thighs that framed him on either side. Connected to him in the most intimate way, she rocked gracefully against him.

Doc circled his hands around her waist and hissed with pleasure. "You're trying to coerce me." He skimmed his palms across her stomach, and then reached upward to cup her breasts. There he lingered, circling her dusky-hued nipples with his thumbs. The warmth and silky smooth texture of her flesh never ceased to lure him, hypnotize him. The fragrant aroma of roses, her personal scent, was like an additictive drug, leaving him helpless craving for more with no hope of ever breaking free. Not that he wanted to be released. Without her there would be no joy, no laughter, no tomorrow.

Dipping forward until her hair cascaded over his chest and shoulders, she whispered into his ear, "Yes", before drawing his earlobe into her mouth to suck. "Coerce, persuade, sway and tempt, in the most devious manner I can think of." Cutting a wet trail with the tip of her tongue from his ear to his mouth, she gave him a heated kiss. "Give me what I want. Promise me, John." She pressured while increasing the rhythm of her hips.

The bolt of pleasure that shot through his groin temporarily took away his reason. Several seconds later, he was finally able to form a coherent thought. "You fight dirty, Alex. Lucky for you I like it."

"Its only two days, John."

She hovered just above his face, giving him a clear view of the passion in her eyes, and the underlying fear she was desperately trying to control. It was her apprehension that finally made up his mind, but he was never one to barter easily. Living out West had taught him to hold out for the highest hand. "What will you give me in exchange?"

Leaning back, she gave him a speculative glance, taking in his patient yet cunning expression. "Are you proposing we trade?" She asked with one brow raised. _Make an exchange involving his welfare?_ _He can't be serious? _She thought.

"Indeed, Mrs. Holliday, I am in earnest." He replied as if reading her thoughts. "I will give you what you want, if you give me what I want."

Slowly, seductively, her hands slid down from his shoulders, along the length of his arms, lightly caressing his skin with the tips of her nails, until she was able to circle his wrists. In one smooth, powerful movement, she raised his arms over his head pinning him to the bed. "What I want… Mr. Holliday…. is to continue seeing my husband alive and well. That is not something I'm willing to bargain for. Stop being difficult and comply please."

The grip she held to his wrists teetered on being painful. Wanting only to test her strength but not really break free, he pushed against her hold, and was surprised to find he had very little movement. His wife was actually pinning him down on the bed. His dick jerked with excitement at the thought. Unconsciously, he arched his hips against her, longing for his sexual release. "Alexis…" He breathed when she rocked against him again.

"Yes, John?" She asked sweetly. "Was there something you wanted?" Her pace picked up in rhythm and force; no longer was she merely teasing him but driving him relentlessly over the edge. Leaning down she latched onto his neck and sucked painfully with lips and teeth.

His head turned to accommodate her, feeling the pull from her mouth shoot from his neck straight down to his groin. He moaned, and instinctively tried to wrap his arms around her hips, causing her to squeeze his wrist painfully as she continued to hold him down. "Alex, please." He pleaded as he twisted under her grip.

"Do you want me to stop?" She whispered into his ear. "We could talk like rational adults for awhile. You could always fuck me later."

It was then he felt her invade his mind as well as his body. Her quiet intrusion that joined their spirits together, melding the sensation of her skin with his skin, his throbbing dick with the clenching muscles of her wet heat, until he couldn't tell the difference between their bodies. He was a part of her, and she a part of him. Never in all his years with Kate had he experienced this level of heightened sex. Never had he felt so connected to another person. "No, don't stop." He begged in a throaty whisper.

Jerking his hips upward, he pressed into her, rubbing against that delicate spot in her canal, an area that was so easily found whenever they were connected like this. An instant later, a shock of pleasure rolled through him as he felt everything she felt. Alex moaned and the grip on his wrists loosened.

"I will give you two days, Alexis, but I want them spent with you in bed…fucking." Pumping hard against her, he attacked her erroneous zone with zeal, feeling a secret glee when she crumbled into a whimpering, trembling ball of flesh against his chest. Quickly, he pulled his hands free and rolled, switching their positions. Before she could object, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands high over her head.

Her eyes flashed briefly with irritation before glazing over as he resumed stroking her. "You don't fight fair, either." She panted.

He scoffed loudly. "And you're surprised by this? I'm a former outlaw, remember?" Shifting his grip, he held her wrists with one hand while reaching down the length of her body. Scoping his hand under her one leg he bent her knee toward her shoulder while increasing depth of each stroke between her legs.

The pressure was more than Alex could bear. One second she was semi rational, and the next screaming as her orgasm tore through her. The motion tripped the domino, and Doc found his release on the crest of passion she rode.

Panting, he trembled like a weak kitten against her, gathering her against his chest so that he could kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. "Do you really want two whole days of this? Are you up to the task?" She asked in between his kisses.

"Yes and yes. Well, maybe not _up_ at the moment, but give me twenty minutes and ask me again."

"But in bed, John? I can't spend two days in bed. I've got children to look after and a house to take care of."

He leveled her with his gaze. "Those are my conditions. Either you accept them, or I'm going to work tomorrow."

"But…" She stammered. "What do I tell the children, or for that matter, what do I tell the servants?"

Shifting his weight to one side, he leaned across her chest to reach for his tobacco and began to roll a smoke. "Tell them your husband wants to spend two whole days fucking his wife and that they need to watch the children and take care of the house until he lets you out of bed again." He struck a match and pulled hard against the smoke.

She choked on his vulgar suggestion. "Should I say fuck or fornicate?"

Reaching down between her legs, he passed one finger through her wet curls, stopping to circle around the hard wet nub at her center. "Say fuck, Alex. I like to watch your beautiful lips when you curse. Say fuck for me and then let me stick my dick inside your dirty mouth."

Despite the wave of pleasure he was giving her she laughed. "I've created a monster. You love this, don't you? Just thinking about two days of nothing but sex is turning you on."

His eyes twinkled with inner mischief. "Yes, it's definitely making me hot. How about you, darlin, am I making you hot?" He pinched her, chuckling warmly when she cried out and jerked against his hand.

"Very well, John, you win. I'll send Mr. Li to town tomorrow to put a note on your office door, letting your patients know that Dr. J. H. Holliday is home sick with a cold. It should be safe for you to return to work next Monday.

"Next Monday?" He licked his lips with anticipation. "Do I get to keep you in bed the entire weekend as well?"

Smiling with relief now that he would be home safe and sound, she slipped the cigarette from his hand and took a puff, sending a smoke ring sailing over his head. "I'm not promising anything, but then again, you do have two days to renegotiate."

"Indeed." He droned, and leaned over to kiss her again.

**The End... for now.**


	8. Seven Years After Their Wedding

_**A/N: This chapter is LONG overdue. I had parts of it written but not finished, and as hard as I tried, I just couldn't find the time to bring it to a conclusion. **_

* * *

**SEVEN YEARS LATER…**

**A unexpected but happy announcement brings nothing but heartache for Alex and Doc. **

* * *

In the privacy of her bedroom, from a reclined position on the bed, Alexis Holliday watched her husband dress for work. Navy blue was the color of the day. Soft wool trousers, classic white shirt with gold cufflinks, and when he finally managed to complete the outfit, a gold silk waistcoat intermixed with the same shade of navy as his suit and matching cravat he was presently tying. Glancing at the small clock on the nightstand she smirked when she noted the hour. "I had hoped… no, prayed actually, that over time you would learn to dress faster. You let me down, John."

Without taking his eyes off the mirror Doc continued to adjust his tie. "What is the time so that I may know the depth of your despair?" He asked.

"Nine fifteen. You've been dressing for a full thirty minutes. You also spent twenty minutes bathing and shaving. Ten minutes combing your hair, and another ten minutes pondering what jewelry to wear with that audacious vest." Alex released a somewhat dramatic sigh. "Honestly, John, I don't think I can take another minute. The stress is more than I can bear. I want a divorce."

The "D" word had him pausing from his task to turn and face her. Alex lay on her side in a provocative pose, left elbow bent with her head propped up against her palm, right arm resting lightly against the curve of her hip, and her long legs that traveled down the length of the bed were bare from her thighs down. The sage green dressing gown she wore was opened from the neck to her waist and made of a sheer silk material that was designed to accent rather than cover the transparent silk nightgown underneath. Just a hint of her dusky-hued nipples was visible through the material, but it was enough. John Holliday smiled and wondered if a practiced whore could have struck a more seductive pose. "Something tells me you are exceedingly corrupt in your allegation and that a hidden agenda is foremost on your mind, Alexis."

He moved toward the bed, keeping his steps slow and casual, waiting for her sit up to greet him, but once again his lovely wife took him by surprise. Alex rolled onto her back and languidly stretched, one arm snaked over her head, the other slipping between her legs to let her fingers dangle over the golden down he could just barely see under the silk. Sinking onto the bed beside her, all thoughts of work postponed, Doc simply enjoyed the view, eyeing every curve, every mound but touching not one inch of flesh. The smirk never left his wife's face but her eyes drew dark, pupils fully dilated with a soft rosy flush springing to her cheeks.

"If I'm late it will be your fault." Finally he reached back, letting his hand explore one small foot before traveling upward, slowly, to finger the end of her dressing gown. The silk made a soft whooshing sound when he rubbed it between his fingers.

"Are you insinuating that as your wife I should teach you how to dress faster?" Alex smirked.

Doc arched one brow. "Well, should you?"

A slight crease emerged above the bridge of Alex's nose, as if she were pondering the enormous undertaking of such a task. "I will have to consult Josie. She tells me Wyatt can wash and dress in under thirty minutes."

Doc smiled and shook his head. "I'll have to have a long talk with that boy."

"If…" Alex began as she sat up in bed, "you were more efficient with your morning routine we would have time for more pleasant things." With nimble fingers she made minor adjustments to the fabric of his cravat before reaching up to caress his cheek.

The smile Doc Holliday wore transitioned from tenderness to mild amusement. "It won't work, Alex. Now cut the seduction crap and tell me what's on your mind."

She issued an indignant snort and leaned back to look at him more clearly. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." He replied as he claimed one breast with the palm of his hand. "We've been married for…" Doc paused, raising his eyes heavenward he began to silently count. "Twelve or thirteen years…"

Alex shoved against his shoulder and scooted away from him toward the other side of the bed. "Seven years, John. We've been married for seven years and you damn well know it."

Laughing outright, he watched her cross the room to sit at her dressing table and begin to brush her long hair. "I confess there are times when it feels more like thirty years, especially when you play this sexual charade." He replied. Again Alex snorted but said nothing. "Are you going to talk to me, or shall I leave for work and let you stew for the afternoon?"

Finally with a sigh she turned around to face him, hairbrush still held in one hand. "Mattie will be arriving today."

"Yes…"

"Well…. We thought…"

"We?" Doc raised both brows and waited.

"Mattie and I. We wanted to prepare you."

The words held an ominous tone that brought Doc to his feet. When he was inches from her chair Alex rose to meet him, slipping gently into his arms. "Prepare me for what, Alexis?" With effort he kept his voice level, a contradiction when compared to the panic rising inside his chest.

"Well, you know how volatile your temper can be, John, so Mattie asked me to break the news gently before she arrives."

The fingers pressing against her shoulders began to increase their grip. "What news?"

Instead of pulling away, Alex remained still even though the ice in her husband's blue eyes was growing by the second. "Breathe, John and try to be calm."

"What news, Alex!"

"Mattie is getting married." She blurted.

The words slapped him so hard he released his wife and staggered backward. The floor beneath his feet suddenly shifted, making it hard not to sway in time with the motion. Alarmed, Alex let the hairbrush fall to the floor, using both hands to take her husband firmly by the arm she led him over to the bed and forced him to sit down. "Put your head between your knees before you pass out."

Doc shook off her hold and growled, "I'm not going to faint, damn it." Still, he leaned forward, resting his forehead into the palm of his hand he concentrated on his breathing, taking slow deep breaths until the dizziness passed. "How… when… with whom?" He stuttered.

Slipping down on the bed next to him, Alex remarked. "God, I'm glad you're sitting down for this."

Noting the nervous tremble in her hands, Doc looked at her from the corner of his eye and waited. "Fabrizio." She finally declared.

The name had him stiff with anger, shocked to the roots of his soul and matched by a healthy dose of disbelief, all of which he directed at his wife. "You knew about this and yet you told me nothing?" Doc hissed. When she remained silent his temper only increased. "Mattie can't marry some damn Italian! I won't allow it! What the hell am I saying? She can't marry at all. She's a nun and nuns don't marry!"

Slowly, Alexis shook her head, letting her unspoken words break the second phase of her news.

Doc's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Oh, God, please tell me you're joking. That this is all one of your bloody English hoaxes."

Again she shook her head. "At first it was just friendship, but I knew it wouldn't be long until it turned into something more substantial. It was the way they looked at one another, but in truth, John, I was just as shocked as you when Mattie and Fabrizio came to me and revealed their plan to marry. I guess, deep down inside, she really wanted to be a wife and mother more than she wanted to serve God."

"A mother?" He choked. "Are you saying she's pregnant too?"

"No! I didn't say that… at least, I don't think… I didn't pry into that part of their affair. Both Mattie and Fabrizio are adults and…"

"Fuck!" Doc screamed, jumped to his feet and stormed to the closet. "I'm going to fucking kill him." He confessed while reaching for his guns and holster hanging inside the closet.

Moving like the wind, Alex reached his side and quickly restrained him by the wrist. "No, you're not!" She threatened. "You're going to go to work, and while you work you can think this over. I want you calm by tonight, John or at least have your feelings tightly controlled before you speak to Mattie."

Jerking his hand free of her grasp, he slung the thin leather holster over his shoulder anyway, letting the pistols hang limply by his side. "No! I can't talk to Mattie. And as for Fabrizio, do whatever you have to do, Alexis, to keep that fucking Guardian out of my sight." Reaching for his suit coat and vest, Doc stomped toward the bedroom door and jerked it open. Glancing over his shoulder he issued one last warning, "This conversation between us isn't finished. You had better be waiting for me when I get home tonight, Alex. God help you if you're not."

Alex flinched when the door slammed shut, and then flinched again when the twins sleeping across the hall began to cry loudly. "Ah, marital bless," she sighed before reaching for a more conservative dressing gown. "Sorry Mattie. I really, really tried."

* * *

_Marry? Mattie is getting married? How could she?_

The ache inside John Henry's chest gripped his heart until every beat, every involuntary flex of the muscle screamed with pain. His lungs burned from lack of oxygen, forcing him to lean against the tree in his backyard and concentrate on breathing. Mindlessly, he slipped on his holster, vest and coat. Standing patiently by his side, Major whined with concern, bumping his cold wet nose into the side of his master's hand. "I'm all right, boy." Doc told the dog as he stepped away from the tree and continued his trek toward the barn.

But he wasn't all right, and judging from the bleeding wound inflicted on his soul, he didn't think he would ever be all right again.

_How could she?_ The thought circled and circled inside his head, flying wildly like a hovering vulture, too eager for his next meal. How could Mattie marry another man? The concept was unfathomable. Mattie loved God above all else. She had told him so, spoke slowly and precisely to his face right after he had offered her his heart and soul. Even after sixteen years he could still feel the biting coldness from the engagement ring right after she had pushed it back into sweaty palm. He remembered standing on the porch of her house totally absent of words as he stared down at the small golden symbol of his love, fighting and fighting against his tears. He finally lost the battle and the damn war, letting the first wave of sadness pour down his face. Never would he forget how Mattie tried to comfort him but unintentionally made matters worse. When he turned his back and walked away, her apologies and cries for forgiveness had echoed over the empty cotton fields.

_How could she?_ Why this man? What was so enthralling about Fabrizio that finally melted the block of ice that encased her heart? Why didn't the damn Italian receive the same "I love God" speech that he had endured?

Questions and more questions emerged and no damn answers in sight. With an inaudible growl Doc Holliday thanked the groom who stood ready with his horse and buggy. By the time he had reached town a full fledge headache was competing with the tight ache in his chest. There was no doubt in his mind work would be impossible today. He gave a few brief instructions to his secretary, Mrs. Harmon, before heading directly to the saloon.

* * *

From the comfort of her kitchen, Alexis poured two cups of tea, added sugar to both cups, and a dash of milk before passing one steaming cup to her cousin-in-law. She took advantage of the momentary pause to glance at the two babies, William and Alice, who were napping in a large cradle in a quiet corner of the room. The twins had played hard all afternoon and had finally fell asleep right in the middle of stacking their wooden blocks. At fourteen months of age, both were growing like weeds and would soon be walking. Her other two children were in the care of their adopted uncle Morgan, learning about the daily care a pony requires. Inwardly, Alex cringed whenever she thought about the black and white pony Doc had brought home that spring. When she balked, he tried to pacify her with a story about the animal being payment for an extracted molar.

"Bullshit." She had replied, but after seeing how excited John Jr. was by the surprise she offered her husband one stipulation: Johnny and Alexander were to learn how to care for their pet before receiving ridding lessons. Being a gambling man, Doc knew when to call his wife's bluff and quickly accepted her terms. Everyday after completing their studies, both boys spent the afternoon feeding, watering and mucking the pony's stall before being allowed to ride.

Dressed in civilian attire, Alex thought Martha Ann Holliday looked very young in a pale blue afternoon dress, a stark contrast to the matronly black and white habit she had abandoned at the church. Her dark hair was fashionably curled and quiet becoming in spite of the length. "And what else did he say?" The former nun asked while giving her linen hanky another tight twist. From Alex's position at the kitchen table she could see the fabric was ripping. _No sense in washing that_, she thought. _It will never make it out of the wringer alive. _

"It would be very unladylike of me to repeat what John said next, Mattie." Alex explained before taking another sip of her tea.

"Oh." The ex-nun uttered while lowering her head to dab at the tears sitting in the corners of her eyes. "You would think after shocking my Georgia relations with my change in venue, I would be more comfortable relating my news, but truthfully, Alexis, I dread telling your husband more than any other member of my family."

"Oh, stop it." Alex snapped. "There's no need to be afraid of him. Just tell the big bully to stick it up his…"

"Alexis, please." Mattie interjected. "This is hardly helpful."

Alex sighed and leaned back into her chair. "You're right, of course. I need to conserve my strength, and my poetic curse words for the battle I shall have to fight later tonight. My husband is not very pleased with me either." She paused from taking another sip, ear turned toward the kitchen door. "He has come home." Alex announced and watched the ex-nun visibly jump. "But for some reason he didn't pull up to the back door…"

The front door suddenly opened, closed sharply and was followed by the steady rhythmic sound of boot heels resonating down the hallway closely pursued by the rapid click-clack of canine toenails. With every step Mattie Holliday grew tenser, reflected by each and every twist her hanky endured. Both women sat up straighter, anticipating the inevitable confrontation. In a show of support, Alex reached out and gently placed a calming hand over Mattie's arm as they waited for the master of the house to breach the kitchen doorway but seconds from making an entrance they heard Doc enter his study and close the door behind him. Only Major's dark form exploded into the kitchen, giving both women a warm greeting before venturing over to his water bowl for a long drink.

Mattie looked at Alex, hoping for some kind of explanation but the pretty blonde continued to stare at the empty doorway, slowly shaking her head. "Enough!" Alexis hissed. "I'll take care of this Mattie if you'll keep an eye on my children for me?"

"No! It's my mess, Alexis. I'll clean it up." Head up, back straight, Martha Ann walked directly toward Doc's study. She knocked twice, paused and then entered, closing the door behind her.

The room was dimly lit, and a cozy fire was gradually warming the cool air. Mattie looked slowly about the room, trying to get her bearings. It was a handsome study, decorated in masculine walnut furniture, leather couch and chair and the walls lined with every book John Henry fancied. The floor was draped in Persian rugs, and above the mantel hung an original Rembrandt, a present from Alexis to her husband on his thirty-fifth birthday. At the end of the room was an enormous bay window, and underneath a cozy window seat. The landscape beyond the glass glowed vibrantly from the setting sun. _Beautiful_, Mattie thought, and at the moment she wanted nothing more than to watch the sunset and talk to God.

"Which do you prefer," John Holliday asked softly from the shadows of his desk chair, "sunsets or sunrises?"

Mattie startled, whipping around to face him. It was then when the fumes from the liquor he had consumed assaulted her senses. Most of John's face was in shadow, but the cold blue fire within his eyes burned brightly. He sat composed, hands resting on the arms of the chair. On the desk sat an open bottle with glass. Slowly, Doc leaned forward and picked up the glass.

"Sunsets." Mattie squeaked before swallowing to clear her voice.

"And why is that?" He bated. "What draws you to relish the end rather than a beginning?"

"Why must there always be an ending and beginning? Is life not a circle?"

"Why indeed? For us normal folk, Martha, life begins, plays its tune, and then it dies. But perhaps because you are of a religious state of mind things are seen in a more spiritual light. Oh, wait… I've forgotten you have fallen from grace. How stupid of me."

"John," she gasped, stepping forward ready to explain.

He leaned in to greet her, leveling her with the full rage baking within his eyes. "Well, at least your hair is not as short as I imagined. Oh, and in case you wonder, Mattie, I did imagine… Stung by your rejection, I traveled from western town to western town, thinking only of you. Every damn time I lay in my sick bed, I could envision your beautiful brown hair chopped short. Every damn time I sat in some backward dusty saloon, too drunk to walk back to my rented room, I could see your face circled tightly in white and black fabric. And in spite of the theatrical moans from every whore I fucked, I could still hear the glass beads of your rosary whisper against your skirt as you knelt in prayer."

"Please." She whispered too taken off guard by the depth of his anger. "Won't you even let me explain?" Carefully, she took several steps forward until she came to the edge of his desk.

Too quickly to give her time to react, his wrist jerked and across the desk a small object bounced and then rolled, landing on the polished walnut in front of Mattie. She looked down and gasped when she recognized the delicate gold band with modest diamond presented to her sixteen years ago.

"What's to explain?" Doc sneered.

When Mattie bolted out of the study, stifling her sobs as she ascended the stairs to her room, Alex sat in frigid silence and counted to twenty. Only then did she feel compose enough to enter her husband's study. Quietly she closed the door behind her, hoping the solid wood door would block out the sound from the battle she was sure would ensue.

She walked directly to where he sat and lit the lamp that rested on the corner of the desk. Sure that Doc would bark at her in anger she was surprised when his upturned face was washed in tears. He made no effort to conceal his weakness. "I suppose you're mad at me too and with good reason. How many wives, I wonder, find their husband crying over another woman?"

Gingerly, she circled him within her arms while slipping delicately onto his knee. "Mattie's not mad at you, John, and neither am I. Well, at least not anymore."

At once, Doc buried his face against her chest, seeking comfort and understanding, feeling even guiltier because he didn't deserve it. He scoffed. "You will be, once I explain."

The whiskey fumes emanating from his body were strong, but it didn't stop Alex from burying her face against his hair. "I don't think you're upset over Mattie's coming prenuptial. I think you're mourning your youthful love."

"Youthful love?" He echoed with a bitter laugh. "How quaint, and here I thought it was so much more." Gently but firmly, he forced her off his lap so that he could stand. Alex watched him stalk over to the window and look out. "You forget, Alexis, the difference between our cultures. When I proposed to Mattie I was a full-grown man at twenty-one years of age. Educated, cultured and propertied, I was expected to take a wife. Cousins often married, especially in the south. It was a way to keep the assets controlled particularly after the war."

"I see." She whispered while hovering next to his desk. "Perhaps _youthful_ was not the appropriate word. You are correct, twenty-one is considered young in my time, although men and women do marry at that age. I was merely illustrating the number of years you have matured."

Doc scoffed loudly again and turned to confront his wife. "Maturity had nothing to do with it. It wasn't marriage she was apposed to, it was me. After all these years I thought she preferred to live in a convent married to God. Heartbroken and ashamed of my rejection I honored her wishes and withdrew my offer. For years I mourned for her and the life we might have had. And then I met you, and what I thought was love for Mattie I realized was something entirely different, but my ego was comforted knowing that I had been passed over for a better man, so to speak. I thought she was above basic human needs being filled with heavenly spirit. How fucking stupid I've been! How naïve! Years later, Martha rips the rug right out from under my feet, yet again, by abandoning her spiritual calling to play house with some damn Italian."

"Fabrizio is a good man, John. There are damn few who could measure up to him."

Before she could utter another word, he had crossed the room to tower over her smaller form, his hand wrapping painfully around her upper arm. "But not me? Is that it, Alex? Tell me wife, how do I measure when compared to your precious Guardian?"

She stiffened at his harsh words but kept her place, silently enduring his rough treatment. "I believe the sacrifice I made to stay with you in this era speaks volumes about my feelings for you. A verbal tally of your traits would be insignificant in comparison."

His grip softened, as did the angry expression on his face. Alex took a deep breath and added, "You know I love you, John. Alone, without you, I would have gladly stayed a widow."

"Yes, you've said that before, and I'm well aware of what you left behind in your century." Mindlessly, his thumb began a gentle back and forth caress across her arm. "I just can't help but wonder what attractive qualities Fabrizio has that I don't. There must be something about him that caused Mattie to change her mind about being a nun – What? God damn it, Alex why are you smirking?"

She held up her hand in defense. "Honest, I'm not laughing at you."

His grip increased again, anger seeping into his tone of voice. "I don't see anyone else in the room!"

"I'm amused by the profoundly thick idealistic male mindset. Love between a man and woman has nothing to do with property or social status. It has to do with the heart, John. Fabrizio might look like some Italian Adonis, but I doubt that had very little to do with Mattie giving up her vows. Something in her soul recognized Fabrizio as her match. It's that simple. To fight against the attraction would have made them both miserable."

Doc sighed loudly and released her, reaching for the whiskey bottle sitting on the desk. "I could live with miserable."

Again she chuckled. "No doubt but that would have been very unchristian of you." When he raised the full glass to his lips Alex intercepted it before he could drink. "You're not the only one who needs a drink tonight, Mr. Holliday. I had to spend the better part of my afternoon watching your cousin shed tears of worry over what you would say to her. She is that upset." Alex sipped lightly before passing it back to her husband.

He frowned. "I don't want Mattie to be upset. I'm angry and you know how unreasonable I can be when my temper is up."

"Will you apologize?"

Turning away, he wandered over to the sofa. "I don't know." Doc sighed again as he sank into the soft leather.

Alex kept her place by the desk, giving her husband the space he seemed to need. "And why not?" She inquired as she rested her hip against the corner of the desk.

"Because after all these years I still feel slighted, that's why!"

"You're being irrational." She groaned, feeling that their little talk was now going around in circles.

Doc slammed his glass down on the coffee table hard enough to send the whiskey sloshing over the rim and onto the walnut surface. "Do you know what, Alex? I really don't give a fuck if I am!" Springing up from the sofa he stormed over to the door and jerked it open. "Goodnight!" Doc snapped without looking in her direction before slamming the door shut behind him.

Shocked by his outburst, Alex remained seated as she stared at the closed door for several more minutes. Down on the desk a flash of gold caught her eye. Leaning forward to get a better look, she reached for the delicate diamond ring, bringing it closer to the oil lamp so that she could study the detail. A flush of realization hit her square in the stomach when she held the ring next to the gold and emerald bands that resided on the forth finger of her left hand. "Perhaps you're not as irrational as I imagine." She whispered, feeling warm tears of jealousy spring to her eyes.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Allie, I've never seen John like this." Alex sat, composed for the moment, but poised on the edge of the wooden chair that graced Allie Earp's kitchen. Half a dozen times since her early morning arrival she would spring from her chair, pace the floor only to return to her seat more unsettled then before. "He hardly spoke two words at the breakfast table this morning and then he left for work without kissing me goodbye – something he has never done. Mattie is still in tears and refuses to come out of her room. Poor Fabrizio can't come to the house in fear that he will only upset the situation more, and me…I'm mad at all of them! I feel like throwing a jealous tantrum at my sister-in-law, punching Fabrizio for starting this entire mess, and screaming at my husband until I'm horse! At first I thought his reaction was a result of pure shock. What I mean to say is… Doc's attachment to his cousin was so long ago, and they were both so young. But now I'm not so sure."

She leaped up from the chair again; the velocity of her steps increased but the even pattern to her movement was disintegrating. Alex simply wandered from object to object, circling and spinning in the center of the room, the words she desperately tried to relate seemed to be stuck behind all her turbulent emotions. Allie watched Alex's skirts spin back and forth with every erratic movement. Over the years she had been the sounding board for many of Alex's fights with Doc, but this disagreement was different. Gone was the strong, modern woman who had entered their lives more than seven years ago; the shaken and stuttering person in her kitchen was a complete stranger. "Alexis, please stop your pacing and sit down. You're getting me dizzy." With a studious eye Allie watched her friend perch on the edge of her chair again, knowing it was only a matter of moments before she took flight. Leaning across the corner of the table she placed a calming hand over Alex's cold fingers. "What is it? You've got something choking inside you and you need to spit it out."

Alex bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. "I thought I knew my husband. I thought our marriage was secure, that it was what he wanted…" She looked at Allie's somber expression and slowly shook her head. "But now I begin to think he settled."

"Settled?" Allie echoed as she leaned back into her chair.

Alex reached into her dress pocket and held up the ring for Allie to see. "I found this on his desk last night after his argument with Mattie and I can only guess what its significance is."

Gently, Allie took the ring. "It's an engagement ring."

"Not just a ring, it's _the_ ring. I'll wager it's the very same one John offered to his cousin sixteen years ago."

Allie's eyes went wide with shock. "You mean he's been carrying this around for all those years?"

Alex nodded. "I believe so. I think he offered it to her again last night and again she refused him. At least… I hope she did."

The crease above Allie's nose deepened. "Small problem with your theory Alex; Doc is married to you."

"It might be a problem in the twenty-first century," she scoffed, "but in this era all he has to do make a simple request to a judge, and _poof_, divorced! Especially with all the money we own… correction, he owns, 'cause like an idiot I signed everything over to him! He could easily buy a divorce and if Mattie changes her mind, Doc would be free to remarry. He would have everything he ever wanted: money, social position and the woman of his dreams."

"No." Allie replied while shaking her head. "Doc loves you."

"Are you sure? Because I'm not." She launched herself off the chair and stood back from the table, one trembling hand resting across her waist, the other began to brush and pull at the loose ends of her hair. "Mattie was sobbing when she left Doc's study. He told me if he explained everything to me that I would be angry. And when I compared his relationship with Mattie to youthful love he scoffed at me and told me I wouldn't understand the depth of his feelings because I was not from his century. He loves her still. And why shouldn't he… They are alike. They grew up together and experienced the hard times during the Civil War together. They come from the same Southern background, and have the same family history."

Tears welled up in Alex's eyes as she watched Allie glance down at the diamond ring she still held, gazing at the gold band with new insight. "That's why he was so angry last night, Allie. Mattie might have been unattainable before but now… now she is no longer a nun, and my marriage to John is just a small inconvenience that he could easily remedy." She coughed out a short laugh. "How funny… I'm telling him he's behaving irrationally and all the while he's plotting our divorce." Her complexion suddenly lost all color, eyes wide with helpless shock. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick." Slapping a hand over her mouth, Alex rushed over to the sink and vomited.

* * *

Allie knocked softly on the partially opened bedroom door and waited for the soft reply that would allow her to enter. She stood at the threshold of the room on purpose. A formal air was necessary if she were going to walk this fine line and not fall flat on her face. The small-brown satchel sitting open on the bed did not escape her notice. Around it lay half a dozen dresses all of them bright and crisp with newness. "Miss Holliday?" She called, waiting until the ex-nun stepped forward before pausing when an appropriate distance remained between them. "Considering the unusual circumstances, I thought it might be a good idea if you stayed with Virgil and me, just until things can be resolved."

"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Earp. I'm taking the afternoon train home to Georgia." She gestured toward the bed. "As you can see, I'm packing." Mattie turned away and began to fold another dress, placing it carefully inside the suitcase. "It was never my intention to upset anyone." She confessed before sobbing loudly into the palm of her hand.

Pushing open the door all the way, Allie took four steps away from the borderline and into enemy territory, placing her hands in a comforting gesture across the ex-nun's shoulders. "I know this is a private matter but I wish you would wait until Alexis has an opportunity to speak with her husband again. This may all be a misunderstanding."

"Oh, I doubt that." Mattie sniffed while blotting her tears with a linen handkerchief. "John was very blunt. His temper is legendary in our family. It will be many weeks before he calms down and I don't want to see Alexis so upset. It's best if I leave."

Allie was seconds from asking the other woman to clarify her vague statements. What exactly was she trying to avoid? Could it be indecision about whom she would marry? Or was she running because Doc would not accept that he was never her heart's desire, or was she hoping to steer clear of the emotional baggage from Alex's divorce while waiting for her childhood love in Georgia. But instead of intruding, Allie swallowed her curiosity and her anger while adhering to the social norm. "Please," she begged, "give it one more day. If things are still turbulent tomorrow I'll take you to the station myself." She squeezed out a small smile to help persuade the ex-nun, signing with relief when she finally complied.

* * *

After spending the morning sobbing in Allie's kitchen Alex was determined to speak to her husband. Ignoring all good advice to wait until Doc returned from work, she decided to ride into town, choosing Bronte as her mount. Dressed in a velvet green and black riding outfit, she made one finally adjustment to her matching hat and lowered the veil before lightly touching the riding crop to stallion's side. The horse snorted a reply and took off like a rocket, stirring a cloud of dirt behind him as he raced down the road.

Learning to ride sidesaddle took balance as well as weeks of practice, but after more than seven years of living in this century, Alex had comfortably settled into her role of a ninetieth-century woman. Only while on the estate did she dress in more comfortable clothing whenever she rode. Public decorum was part of the rules Doc had insisted she follow when she visited his dental office and today of all days, Alex had no intention of upsetting him further.

She let the horse run; only slowing the stallion to a trot just before she reached the city limits. As she passed through the center of town she drew approving glances from several men, appearing elegant and refined and every bit like the wife of a rich prominent dentist. She steered Bronte to the front of Doc's office, choosing to ignore the small stable her husband had constructed for his horse and buggy, Alex swung down from the saddle and felt a sharp pinch in her lower stomach. Leaning against the horse, she rested a moment waiting until the pain faded to a dull ache. "Oh, the joys of riding sidesaddle." She snorted under her breath as she tied the horse to the post on the street. Praying that her husband would be in better spirits, Alex pushed past the nerves and cramping sensation in her stomach as she entered the building. The little bell above the office door called out a cheerful welcome in contrast to the strained look Doc's secretary wore when Alex stepped into view.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Holliday."

"Mrs. Harmon, how nice to see you." Alex replied, trying her best to give the woman a friendly smile.

The older woman's frown increased. "I'm afraid I'm about to ruin your warm greeting, dear. Your husband is not here. Dr. Holliday arrived this morning, canceled all of his appointments again and then left without an explanation or apology. I've been dealing with angry patients all morning."

Alex raised both brows at the surprising news. "Did you say, again? He canceled yesterday's appointments as well?"

"Afraid so. When I asked for an explanation he refused; only grunted a few instructions and left."

"I see." Alex replied, her voice reflecting her inner turmoil. "I apologize for your inconvenience, Mrs. Harmon. My husband has been dealing with some personal family matters and is preoccupied at the moment. Do you know where he went?"

Mrs. Harmon shook her head. "But I can imagine…" She began when Alex suddenly cut her off. "So can I, Mrs. Harmon, so can I."

Worry burned in the pit of her stomach as Alex made her excuses and stepped out of Doc's office. The uncomfortable sensation began to blend with her sore stomach muscles. Two blocks down the thoroughfare was Church's Inn, leaving Alex no time to compose her emotions when she breached the doorway to the saloon. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark interior but soon enough she spotted his tall blond form in the back of the room fully engaged in a game of pool. _Well, at least he's not gambling_, she thought as she made her way across the room.

The unexpected arrival of a respectable lady caused a subtle stir of unease with some of the men in the room. Without making eye contact they stepped out of her path, giving her a wide berth. Sensing the change in the atmosphere, Doc paused from gauging his next shot and looked up just as Alex came into view.

"Alexis, what are you doing here?" Turning the pool stick upright, he struck a pose and leaned back against the table. "A moment, if you will, Hank." He mumbled to the man he was playing against, silently asking him to take a break from the game.

Alex watched Hank McGinly, the local blacksmith, walk over to the bar and order a pint. "You are not working today?" She stated the obvious while trying desperately to still her fidgeting hands.

"No." Doc replied in a blunt tone. "I am not working today." He waited for her to continue, wondering if her nervous disposition was from their earlier confrontation or if his lovely wife had gotten herself in some new mischief she was afraid to disclose.

"Oh." Alex whispered while briefly meeting her husband's icy-blue eyes. She took several quick glances around the room, noting how the other men were trying too hard to pretend she wasn't there. _Do they know,_ Alex wondered. _Did Doc tell them he was leaving me?_ Growing more nervous by the second, she shifted her weight to the opposite foot and felt her abdomen clench, making her wonder if she had laced her corset too tightly and pulled something while riding. But between her husband's cold greeting and the uneasy atmosphere in the saloon she was finding it hard to concentrate. A wave of dizziness swept over her, followed by uncontrollable tremble that started in her chest and began to spread outward.

Doc sighed loudly with frustration and placed his stick on top of the pool table. "You're making everyone uncomfortable, Alex. Would you like to sit down and have a beer with me?" He gestured toward a corner table hoping to get her seated and out of sight so the other patrons could relax.

Alex looked at the many mugs of beer sitting on the bar and felt her stomach lurch. "No." She stammered. "I… I want you to come home… please."

"You want me to come home?" Did he hear her correctly? Was his wife really standing in the middle of a saloon, packed to the gills with men, asking him to come home? "Have you lost your reason?"

"No, uh, maybe. Yes, I believe I have." The room took an unexpected roll, leaving her perspective tilted and out of focus. "We should talk, John." The tremble had finally reached her fingers and was rapidly shooting down her legs, making her feel too weak to stand. Quickly, before John noticed, she clenched her hands into fists.

"We'll talk later." He snapped while turning away from her to gesture to the bartender to fill a glass. "I'll leave when I damn well feel like it. Go home and wait for me."

Her stomach rolled again and the pain in her side increased tenfold. Alex knew it was only a matter of seconds before she got sick. She stepped backward, aware of the multiple sets of eyes watching her every movement. Her husband had just given her a very public order. He would loose face if she chose not to obey. "Please don't be long, John." She whispered to him while resting her knuckles against the pool table to steady her balance. "I…"

"Do as you're told, Alexis!" He dismissed her so sharply, so easily Alex felt his anger strike her in the chest, knocking all the air out of her lungs. When he turned away from her and stepped forward to get his mug of beer, Alex knew that was her cue to leave. Lingering would only make her look more foolish and Doc angrier. Lifting up her skirts, she turned too quickly and felt the room spin. Determined to make a dignified exit, Alex took three staggering steps toward the door when her vision abruptly faded to a dark gray. She never felt a thing when she hit the saloon floor.

* * *

The lighting in Doc Holliday's study was as gray as the approaching rainstorm. He hadn't bothered with the electric lights when he entered the room an hour ago. The multiple oil lamps situated about the area were also unused. Light equaled cheerfulness in his mind, and at the moment he felt anything but cheerful. Let it stay dark and dismal like the anguish in his heart. Happiness and laughter were undoubtedly weeks, possibly months out of reach. For the umpteen time that hour he pulled his pocket watch out of his vest, snapped it open and noted the time. _One hour and seventeen minutes and still no word_, he thought. _What the fuck was Doctor Sims doing upstairs?_ With a low growl of frustration John Henry closed the watch and placed it back in the pocket of his vest.

Across the landscape a brilliant flash of lighting suddenly lit the sky, and the wind, which had been mellow earlier that day, began to pickup speed. From somewhere in the back of the house Doc heard the servants rush to close all the windows before the rain began. Following the wake of adult footsteps he heard the small rapid steps of his two sons, John Jr. and Alexander, as they sprang into action, eager to be of assistance. Giggling as they ran, neither child had any idea of the trauma that was taking place in the master bedroom upstairs. _Guess William and Alice must be in the nursery,_ Doc surmised while making a mental note to check on the babies later. Thunderstorms had an unsettling affect on the twins, usually sending both toddlers into screaming fits. The last thing he needed tonight was to upset his wife any further.

_I'll leave when I damn well feel like it. Go home and wait for me._ Shame crept into his chest as he remembered his cruel words. Did he really speak to Alex as if she were an unruly teenager and in front of half of the men in town as well? Never in a million years would he ever forget the way her body had dropped to the floor. The impact sound still echoed in his ears. For several minutes he cradled her limp form, calling her name over and over, waiting for her body to recover and her eyes to finally flutter open. It was the sharp smell of blood that pulled his gaze way from her face and to the growing dark stain on her skirt. He heard several men gasp sharply, and then Hank said he would get the doctor as he rushed out the door. That had been almost three hours ago. Alex had not regained consciousness until he was carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom, and then the screaming began.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts and as he turned away from the window he noticed the room was almost entirely in shadow. "Come in." He called and waited for the beam of light to break through the darkness when the door opened.

"John?"

The visitor was in silhouette but Doc had no trouble identifying the female form. "Martha, please come in." Almost immediately she flipped the switch on the wall, changing his world from dark to light, his world maybe, but not his heart.

"Dr. Sims is washing up in the kitchen and wishes to speak with you."

Doc nodded. "And Alexis? How is she?"

"She's resting, comfortably. The worst is over."

Again he nodded but made no effort to exit the room. The whiskey decanter was his first goal, with full intent of being emotional armed and numb before listening to the doctor's bad news. He filled his glass and then, as an afterthought, filled a small glass for his cousin. "Shall we drink to a truce, Martha Ann Holliday?" He asked while offering her the tumbler, "Or do you feel the need to seek your revenge first."

Willingly, she smiled at his humor while accepting the drink. "If you didn't share your bed with Alex I believe I would douse the mattress with an entire bucket of honey this time, but I won't want to inconvenience her and you're not worth the effort. So, I will have to settle for a heartfelt apology."

Under normal circumstances, Doc would have chuckled at the childhood reference when his spiteful cousin had poured a jar of honey all over his mattress, but not today. His sadness was too sharp and too close to the surface for anything but guilt and sorrow. He clicked his glass against hers. "I believe my ass is still bruised from sleeping on that cold wooden floor with nothing but a blanket. You are a gracious and forgiving woman, Mattie, and I am deeply sorry for my odious behavior."

She shook her head with disbelief. Ten or fifteen years ago he would have stormed and raged for weeks, tearing into anyone who happened to step into his path. But now… "Marriage has mellowed you, John. It is a very good thing."

"Indeed, marriage and time, Mattie. I am too old for that level of anger anymore. I lost my head, momentarily. You have to admit, your news is quite a shock. How did the other members of our family fare with your announcement?"

"They are furious and disappointed." She sighed. "But Fabrizio assures me things will get better over time."

Just mentioning the Italian's name made Doc cringe. He turned away before she could see his painful expression, setting his half-full glass on top of his desk. "Well, I best go speak with Dr. Sims and then go check on my wife. We can discuss your wedding plans later, if you like." Leaning down, he briefly kissed her cheek but before he could pull away Mattie surprised him by throwing both her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry." She whispered in his ear; her voice choked with unshed tears.

As Doc held her tight, he couldn't help but breathe in the scent of her hair, or control the weakness in his soul that allowed his hands to travel up and down the length of her back. _You could have been mine_, he thought. For a brief moment he wondered what his life might have been like with her by his side. There would have been normalcy of that he was sure. Normal house, normal wife, normal children, normal life with no hint of vampires, demons, ghosts, time travel, and blasted Guardians. _No healthy lungs either_, his guilty conscious called back. No wealth, no horse farm, no good friends to keep him company, no vibrant, sexy blonde to share his bed who could make him laugh at himself and who possessed the ability to put him at ease with a few well-chosen words; a wife who had given him everything and asked nothing in return. Without Alexis he knew there would be no happiness. Doc reined in his regret and pulled back to look down at Martha, lightly touched his lips to her mouth one last time and let the dream pass into eternity.

* * *

John Henry breached the kitchen and stopped cold. Sitting at the table with an open bottle of whiskey was Fabrizio. Anger flashed through his system at the sight of the handsome Guardian comfortably seated in his wife's favorite room, but as Doc stepped in closer he noticed Fabrizio was anything but comfortable. Dark circles shadowed both his eyes; lines of worry and stress were creased deep into his tan face that was covered in two days growth of beard. The shirt he wore was stained in sweat; both sleeves were rolled up past his elbows carelessly displaying the tattoos marking his forearms. The cotton material was riddled with wrinkles as if the man had slept in his clothes. With trepidation, Doc approached the table and caught the fading tracks of tears the Italian had shed.

"How is my wife?" He asked as he looked at the doctor before turning toward the Guardian again. The tension and worry corralling in his stomach increase tenfold, but Fabrizio would only shake his head and look away.

Pausing from his task at the sink, Dr. Sims looked over at the table but before he could respond he noticed Fabrizio's tattoos and frowned as if he were trying to make sense of some mysterious illness. Noticing the physician's puzzled expression; John Henry quickly stepped in front of the Guardian, blocking the doctor's view.

"As you know, Dr. Holliday, your wife has had a miscarriage." Dr. Sims began. "I'm very sorry there was nothing I could do. Fortunately her pregnancy was not that far along and the damage was minimal. She will need constant bed rest for the next two weeks if she is to feel well again and you must see that she gets it."

Doc glanced down at the blood coated metal instruments that were laid out on a towel. Equally coated was the doctor's white apron. _Like a butcher's apron_, Doc thought and the shuddered. "Alex didn't tell me she was pregnant."

"Alexis didn't tell you because she didn't know. This baby was a surprise, but by God's graces not meant to be." Dr. Well replied while continuing to rinse off his equipment. The sight of blood was never a good thing and most certainly not welcomed when one was discussing death. The faster he made his departure the sooner this family could begin to heal.

Doc glanced back at Fabrizio and saw the Guardian had rolled down his sleeves. "Is she all right? Can I see her?"

Drying his hands on a clean towel, the aged doctor placed a comforting hand on the dentist's shoulder, keeping the pitch of his voice low and soothing. "She's unconscious, John. I had to perform a small operation to abort the dead fetus and then I gave her a good dose of laudanum to keep her comfortable. Mrs. Holliday should sleep until morning."

Doc nodded while silently counting the number of hours he suspected Alex would sleep given her active immune system. "Did you leave a bottle upstairs?" He asked referring to the laudanum. He would need more than a few drops if he were to keep her comfortably numb until she healed.

"Of course. Mrs. Earp left it sitting by the bed. Be careful how much you give her. She bled a lot, which will make her weak and thus more susceptible to the drug." He turned and began to load the clean instruments into his bag before setting a small covered bowl on top.

Doc took one look at the bowl and knew immediately what it contained. Nodding toward the container he asked, "Was it… was it a boy or a girl?" In the back of his throat Doc could feel the pressure building and building. Tears that were a long time coming were just seconds away.

"It was too soon to tell, John." The doctor whispered. "There will be other babies. Your wife is a fine strong woman. After Alex heals she'll be able to get pregnant again."

* * *

The climb upstairs seemed to take all his remaining strength. By the time Doc reached the top riser he was weak with fatigue and overwrought emotions. A sharp crack of thunder announced his arrival into the master bedroom. Lit with soft oil lamps, the room was bright enough to see, without being intrusive. Immediately, his eyes traveled to the bed. The need to see and touch his wife was foremost in his mind. He glanced once at Allie as she kept watch from the settee across the room before turning his back to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Alex appeared to sleep peacefully. They had dressed her in a clean cotton shift and arranged her long hair into a simple braid that hung over one shoulder. Gently he reached out and ran the edge of his finger down her pale cheek. The loss of blood had taken its toll, even on a woman with Alex's special abilities. Her skin was cool to the touch, showing no signs of fever but her complexion also lacked its usual warmth. Bluish shadows lingered under her eyes, the lids swollen and lined with red from hours of crying. For the first time ever, his wife truly appeared ill. The concept made his eyes fill with tears.

He picked up her hand and began to rub his thumb across her fingertips and palm. The sensitivity in his touch immediately noticed the small half-mooned impressions embedded into skin where she had sunk her nails deep into the flesh. _From nerves or pain,_ he wondered? The answer came almost at once. Images of Alex flashed through his mind and he saw her as she was that afternoon, standing in the saloon her hands fidgeting, opening and closing over and over. "My nervous dove." He whispered into her palm, letting his warm breath flow over her cool skin.

What was the cause of Alex's latest episode, and what had been so damn important that she tracked him down inside the saloon and asked him to come home? Part of the answer lay within his subconscious. He had been acting out, more concerned with his bruised heart than with the wellbeing of his family. But was that reason enough for his wife to ride into town?

He sensed a presence lingering just behind his shoulder and turned to glance up at Allie's face. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiled, one of the rare moments when Virgil's wife willing touched him. With effort Doc controlled the urge to comment about making a lasting impression on the tough pioneer woman. Their introduction had been a poor one and he had only himself to blame. He had been stinking drunk the first time they met and Allie had never forgiven him for making some snide comment about her having baby teeth. The remark had been a reference to the noted age differences between Virgil and his much younger bride. The damage was done. Allie held a grudge, never giving him the opening to offer an apology after he sobered up.

"Doc, I have to get home. Virgil's a good babysitter but four hours alone with Elizabeth is more than he can handle, I'm sure. Shall I come back later?"

Shaking his head Doc looked back toward Alex and mumbled, "No."

"Are you sure?"

Reluctantly he looked away from Alex and up at Allie again, noting how petite she was. _The top of your head is just a few inches above mine, and I'm sitting down,_ he thought before pushing away that abstract thought. "I'll sit with her for awhile before going to bed." He covered her hand with his own. "Thank Allie, for all that you've done."

"I've done nothing." She replied curtly before pulling her hand free. "Laudanum is on the dresser. Dr. Sims said not to give her too much…"

"What did she want to talk about, Allie? Did Alex mention …"

"Here," She interrupted, pressing something small and hard into his hand. "I found that in the pocket of Alex's dress."

Doc looked down at the small engagement ring and felt an unsettling stir begin in the pit of his stomach. His head jerked up but before he could ask Allie how his wife acquired the ring she had already reached the bedroom door. With hand poised on the doorknob she looked back once more. "Alex found it sitting on the desk in your study the night you and Mattie quarreled." Then in a flash of silk and lace, she passed through the door and was gone.

"Well, Holliday, you've done it again." He sighed. Slipping the small jewel in his vest pocket, Doc could see how events might have given Alex the wrong impression. She had no way of knowing he withdrew that ring from his safety deposit box inside the town's bank with the full intention of tossing it back in Mattie's face. Mission accomplished, he should have hidden it again, but drunk as he was, he simply forgot. "I'm sorry darlin." He whispered, leaning in close so that he could kiss her forehead.

Alex stirred at his touch, letting loose a small moan, her head turned, eyes fluttering open. "John?" She groaned again before rapping her arm across her stomach.

Leaning in close he smoothed a curl resting against her cheek. "How do you feel?"

"John. I've got the worst cramps." She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees toward her chest.

"Try not to move." He told her before he crossed the room to retrieve the bottle of laudanum. Taking the small spoon Allie had left by the bottle, Doc measured a quarter teaspoon of the drug and stirred it into a glass of water. "Here," He lifted her head and helped her drink, "this will help with the pain."

Like a greedy child she empted the glass and laid back, licking the excess off her lips. Doc leaned down to capture her mouth tasting the sweet flavor of a drug he had seldom taken in last seven years. "I'm sorry." He whispered to her, kissing her cheek, her eyes and then her mouth again.

Alex shook her head. "My fault. Shouldn't have gone riding. Such a stupid thing to do." Her speech was slurred and slow coming, aspects from her ordeal and the opium.

"It wasn't your fault, Alex. You didn't know you were pregnant." Doc tried his best to sooth her, petting her gently along her cheek and throat but he could see the tears begin to fill her eyes. When she squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away the flood spilled over her lashes and down her face. "Shhh, don't cry. Dr. Sims said you could get pregnant again."

"No." She squeaked, turning her face into the pillow. "No husband, no babies."

"What?" Confused by her odd train of thought he frowned down at her. "Nonsense. I'm not going anywhere." It had to be the drug fogging her brain.

Shaking her head, she suddenly lurched up, eyes staring forward but unfocused. Doc caught her by the shoulders, holding her still before she fell off the bed. "I know! I know you'll leave me to marry her!" Alex gasped before sinking into unconsciousness.

He eased her down into the bed, shifting the pillow under her head and neck before rapping that thick braid of hair over her shoulder. "Never." He swore against her lips. "You'll never be rid of me, Alexis Marie Holliday. You and I will be together until one of us leaves this earth."

* * *

The plain wooden interior of the Faywood Catholic Church was made brighter and cheerier by dozens of fall flower arrangements positioned throughout the nave. Clusters of orange and red calla lilies, pink hydrangeas, peach roses, and fuchsia orchids surrounded by sprays of green fern and bound by yards of copper ribbon stood at the front and back of the room and tied to the end of every pew. At the alter was a three foot long, foot and a half high triangle arrangement of white lilies, white and peach roses, more pink hydrangeas and fern, resting on a four foot tall marble pillar. Yards of white crepe bunting was folded and tucked to form an arch that would stretch out and down on either side of the flowers. It was to be the focal point of the room. Alex had been explicit when instructing the priest to stand with the arrangement at his back during the ceremony.

The final affect reminded Doc of a woodsy scene from Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. _It's overdone,_ he thought but kept his opinion to himself. Planning, arranging and decorating for Mattie's wedding was the only thing that had made his wife smile in the past few weeks and because of that he didn't give a shit if she wanted to dump yards of dirt on the church floor so that she could plant grass and moss for the bride and groom to stand upon, anything to keep her from lingering inside her sorrow.

After spending three days in bed and another week lounging around the house he gave Alex permission to take brief trips into town. She was to take the buggy of course, pulled by a gentle mare with a smooth step, but at first Alex had refused to venture outside the safe walls of her home. He started to come home for lunch only to find Alex in her parlor sitting in her favorite chair pulled close to the window that over looked the front lawn, she stared forward, motionless, mindless, a shadow of her former self. Sometimes she held a book or an embroidery ring, but neither object was engaging. By the end of the week it finally occurred to him that his wife's behavior was very similar to the depression she experience after Malachi disappeared into the jungle.

He left work early that Friday with the firm intention to take his wife to dinner in town, hoping a change of atmosphere might cheer her up, but when he entered the house he found her still sitting in her parlor. Pausing in the doorway, he simply watched her. Alex hardly moved. Like a statue she remained frozen, only the slight rise and fall of her shoulders and the soft inhale and exhale as she breathed gave the only clue she still lived. Gradually, Doc became aware of another sound and when she slowly raised her hand to dab lightly at her nose he finally made his presence known.

"Have you been sitting like this since lunch?"

Alex squeaked with fright and turned around in her chair. "Christ, John!" She scolded while placing a calming hand to her chest. "Aren't you a little old to be sneaking up on people?"

"I suppose." Doc replied as he entered the room. "How are you feeling, Alex?" He pulled another parlor chair over to the window so he could sit across from her.

Still dabbing at her eyes and nose, Alex scoffed loudly. "Why does everyone keep asking me how I feel? Such a stupid question. You of all people should know I'm perfectly fit. I'm well enough to dig trenches in the yard if I want to." She avoided meeting his eyes and turned back to the window.

Doc chuckled softly at her sour attitude. "Why don't you then? I always wanted a house with a mote." Again she scoffed loudly followed by a very wet sniff.

Resolved, Doc knew it was time for confession – his confession, but broaching the subject was a delicate matter. Silently, he began to construct the beginning of what could be a heated discussion, wording and rewording sentences in his head, when he suddenly blurted, "Alexis, I'm sorry about the baby."

He could see the line in her back stiffen; the tension in her shoulders increased a notch as she silently nodded but continued to avoid his gaze. Slowly, he reached out to her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. "I take full responsibility. If I hadn't unnecessarily upset you, things might have turned out very differently."

Alex whipped around to face him, eyes full of tears and rimmed in red, her expression was not one of grief but anger. "Unnecessarily upset me? Is that how you see it? Don't you really mean to say how your plotting to get rid of me and end our marriage might have upset me?"

He jerked backward at the force of her anger. "Get rid of you? Is that what you think I want? No Alex, that is…"

"Divorce!" She interrupted. "Do you mean to divorce me or not!"

"N-No." He stammered. "Why the hell would you think that? Is it because of the ring?"

"It's a big clue, John. What other conclusion should I come to? Mattie's available now; you have your ring, and your childhood sweetheart." Suddenly, her lower lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. Quickly, Alex turned away to wipe her face. "I guess I'm in the way. So divorce is the next logical step."

Laughter was not the appropriate response. Out of all the emotions Doc had surging inside his chest, amusement was the last one he should reveal. But like his anger, laughter seemed to have a mind of its own and he suddenly found himself chuckling out loud. When she turned back around to confront him again, he gently reached up to brush away her tears. "Trust me darlin, logic has nothing to do with your conclusion. I didn't withdraw that ring from our safety deposit box to propose. I intended to use it as a weapon to hurt Mattie. And that is exactly what I did. I threw it in her face because I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to remind her of the pain she inflicted on me many years ago. My plan worked and because of my horrid behavior, Martha fled my study in tears. But it was never my intension to hurt you or mislead you in anyway. I should have put the damn ring back in my pocket but as drunk as I was I forgot. From your point of view, I can see how you might have drawn the wrong conclusions, but truly, Alex, divorcing you is the last thing on earth I would ever want to do. You're my wife, my lover and my best friend. Even my relationship with Martha pales by comparison. What I don't understand is how you could ever think I would be happy without you?"

Alex shook her head softly and looked down at the linen hanky she was currently twisting to death. "I don't know… I guess I just thought…" Again she sniffed loudly before wiping her nose. "Then again, I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. All I could concentrate on was Mattie being available and how you might feel about that, and then when I saw the ring… I wanted to talk to you. That's why I rode into town, but you spoke to me so coldly at the saloon. I was beginning to panic and I think that's why it never occurred to me that the cramps I felt weren't from my corset." She shrugged. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions."

Guilt slammed into his chest as Doc recalled the way he treated her in front of half the men in town. Swallowing loudly, he leaned in and tried to make amends with a kiss and a clean hanky. "Can't we put this terrible circumstance behind us, Alex?"

"I'm trying." She sniffed, wiping away a fresh round of tears with the white linen cloth. "It's just… hard. I feel responsible for the miscarriage, and now, knowing how badly I misjudge you makes things worse. And I can only imagine how upset Mattie must be."

He placed a firm hand under her chin and forced to look at him. "If Martha were upset, it would be with me, but she's not angry with you, Alex." She brushed his hand way and turned back toward the window. "Alex, you need to step outside of your solitude. Sitting in here day after day, hour after hour is not healthy. Why don't you dress for dinner and we'll dine in town tonight?"

"Not yet." She replied with a slow shake of her head. "I'm not ready yet."

Frustrated, Doc leaned back into his chair. This problem was beyond his ability to correct. He needed help, and he needed it quickly.

That evening he secretly spoke with Mattie and asked for her assistance. The ex-nun was less than pleased with his proposal. "Considering the circumstances, Fabrizio and I thought a small ceremony would be best. We had not thought of a large wedding." She gave her handkerchief a nervous twist and Doc knew he needed to up ante.

"I beg you to reconsider, Martha. I can't stand seeing Alex like this anymore. If given the opportunity to help you plan, I just know it would cheer her up. Please, I realize it's asking a lot…"

Mattie held up her hand to halt his begging. "All right, Johnny. I'll speak with Fabrizio tonight. I swear, he was more upset than you were when Alex miscarried. I doubt he'll mind if we change our plans to help Alexis feel better."

"Excellent." He beamed. "Don't worry about the cost. I'll pay for everything."

"You bet your boots, you will." She huffed. "Perhaps while I spend your money you can come up with a way for me to avoid all the uncomfortable comments and leers I'm sure our family will be directing my way. I firmly believe my departure from the church surpassed all of your previous antics."

He laughed lightly while tossing his arm around her shoulder. "Martha, this could be your one and only time to be wild and live life poised on the edge of proper society. Just think of all the fun you could have."

The plan worked, and within a few hours Mattie had Alex scribbling down ideas, making notes and lists of items to buy, people to call upon, and an extensive invitation list. When he came home for lunch the next Monday Alex and Mattie were gone. On the table was a hastily scribbled note letting him know the woman were meeting with the priest before heading into town to shop for a wedding dress. At the bottom was a postscript – _Ham sandwich in the icebox. Love A. _

Two weeks later, the day of all days had arrived. From across the room Doc spied Alex conversing with his uncle Thomas McKey and his wife. She had just exited the small room at the back of the church were Mattie was making the final adjustments to her hair and dress. Slowly, Alex made her way through the room, smiling and nodding, pausing to speak with several people before collapsing next to him in the pew. "All I can say is, wow! People are very excited about this wedding, especially your family, John. I could barely make it from one end of the room to the other without being asked a million not-so-subtlety-posed questions." She shifted around in her seat so that she could face him directly and whisper, "Tell me, dear, how did they meet?" Alex drawled in a perfect Georgia accent that mimicked his nosey aunt exactly. "I heard his family has connections to a wealthy shipping merchant in Florence. You must tell us everything!"

Doc issued a snort of laughter before he could stifle it with his hand. "Alexis please don't make me laugh. Now is hardly the time and place." Even though his words were scolding in nature the warm beam of happiness in his eyes expressed his delight with his wife's present mood.

Alex huffed in reply. "I beg to differ. Now is exactly the time and place. We should be hysterical with laughter, or we could carryon like your father who is napping two rows up." She shook her head while smoothing out a wrinkle in her gown. "I'm very glad I listened to Virgil and order twice the amount of liquor than originally planned. We are going to need all the help we can get to make it through the night."

Doc nodded in agreement as he surveyed the room. Almost all the pews were filled on both sides of the church. The Holliday and McKey clan on the left side on the right side were Fabrizio's invited guests, which consisted mostly of Guardians, their wives and a few close friends from the ranch. Eyeballing the strange array, Doc leaned over to whisper in Alex's ear. "Does the Italian have _any_ immediate family?"

Alex ignored her husband's slur and whispered back, "Fabrizio's entire family, his mother, father and two elder sisters, were slaughtered by vampires when he was eleven. Only he survived. That is why he enlisted. His remaining relatives live in a small village in Florence but there was no time to arrange for their passage to the states."

"He was the one who didn't want to wait another month or two." Doc pointed out.

"I know, but it's perfect really. It lends an air of mystery to his background. All Fabrizio has to do is smile and keep his mouth shut and your gossipy relatives will fill in all the blanks."

"The same could be said about your background, darlin."

She flashed him a dark look while scooting over to make room for Wyatt and Josie. "True. I guess I should be glad my pretend relatives live in Europe as well." She broke off to welcome the Earps. Nodding a greeting at Allie, Virgil, Morgan and Louisa.

The rest of the wedding progressed without a flaw. Solemnly, John Henry watched his cousin link her life to a man who, less than a year ago, was a perfect stranger. He studied her face closely, looking for any sign of hesitancy, ready to jump to her rescue should she need him, but in the end he found none. Mattie blushed profusely throughout the entire service, smiling upward at her husband to be. Not once did she falter. Not once did she show the slightest sign of fear. All he saw was happiness as she looked at Fabrizio. Such happiness he had not seen her express before. Somehow, deep inside his gut, Doc felt certain this was Mattie's true path, and he was surprised at the absence of conflict in his soul. In the end there was nothing but acceptance, contentment and finally peace.

At one point in the service he looked away and down at Alex, keenly aware she had been watching him, trying desperately to measure the level of heartache she imagined he carried. Doc offered her a soft smile, picked up her hand and gently removed her glove before pressing her fingers against his cheek, knowing her keen sense of touch would tell her more than mere words could possibly say. Immediately Alexis sighed with relief, and it was then, in full view of his family, friends and God, when Doc leaned down and kissed her deeply and as passionately as he could. There would be no doubt, no question, about where his loyalty lay, and which woman would forever hold his heart.

"It is settled." He whispered to her.

"Yes," Alex agreed, her eyes filling with tears of happiness, "it is settled."

_**The End... for now. **_


End file.
